


still you want me

by jedormis (dottie_wan_kenobi)



Series: help, i've soulmate ficced again, and i can't stop doing it [14]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bisexuality, Clueless Betty Cooper, Demisexual Jughead Jones, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gen, High School, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jughead Jones is not a serpent, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Language, Miscommunication, Northside Jughead Jones, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Betty Cooper, POV Jughead Jones, Sort Of, Southside Serpent Betty Cooper, Team as Family, Teenagers, Worldbuilding, none of the main characters are the victim, not graphic, ocs aren't very important
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-06-19 17:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15514566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottie_wan_kenobi/pseuds/jedormis
Summary: Jughead Jones is a student at Riverdale High, the main editor of the Blue & Gold, and has a good circle of friends: Archie, Veronica, Kevin, Josie, and Cheryl. His true love is food, and he’s utterly uninterested in intimacy, and also a little frightened of it if he’s being honest. A lot of his problems can be traced back to his alcoholic dad, FP Jones, or out-of-town mom who refuses to answer his calls. The last thing he wants is to meet his soulmate — the person who asks him upon meeting,Why don’t you take a picture, creep?Betty Cooper is — no, was — a student of Southside High, the daughter of the Serpent Queen, and has a good circle of friends: Sweet Pea, Fangs, Toni, and her sister. She desperately wants to escape the Southside, while also honoring it, which she can do by being on the staff of the Blue & Gold. It’s an escape from the classist hierarchy of the rest of the school, as well as the highly oppressive Southside. The last thing she wants to worry about is her soulmate, who’s first words to her are the very generic,Um, hi. Sorry.Full summary inside





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Bee for betaing; Mari, Summer, Cass, Evie, Cyd, Lyss, Holly, and everyone else I've been sprinting with; and also to my brain for doing me this solid lmao.
> 
> This is set in sophomore year like in the show, meaning that the core four along with Kevin and Fangs are all currently 15. The juniors are Sweet Pea, Toni, Josie and Joaquin. Seniors are Polly and the Blossom twins.
> 
> Title comes from Imagine Dragons' Next To Me.
> 
>  
> 
> Full Summary:
> 
> Jughead Jones is a student at Riverdale High, the main editor of the Blue & Gold, and has a good circle of friends: Archie, Veronica, Kevin, Josie, and Cheryl. His true love is food, and he’s utterly uninterested in intimacy, and also a little frightened of it if he’s being honest. A lot of his problems can be traced back to his alcoholic dad, FP Jones, or out-of-town mom who refuses to answer his calls. The last thing he wants is to meet his soulmate — the person who asks him upon meeting, Why don’t you take a picture, creep?
> 
> Betty Cooper is — no, was — a student of Southside High, the daughter of the Serpent Queen, and has a good circle of friends: Sweet Pea, Fangs, Toni, and her sister. She desperately wants to escape the Southside, while also honoring it, which she can do by being on the staff of the Blue & Gold. It’s an escape from the classist hierarchy of the rest of the school, as well as the highly oppressive Southside. The last thing she wants to worry about is her soulmate, who’s first words to her are the very generic, Um, hi. Sorry.
> 
> Also includes: Archie and Veronica being Grossly In Love, Josie living her best life and loving her soulmate Hudson, Cheryl dealing with lots of emotions, Kevin finding time to find his soulmate while pestering Jughead (or maybe the other way around), Toni trying to figure out how to deal with her own emotions, Fangs being a good friend, Sweet Pea being accused of things he didn’t do, and Riverdale-typical subplots.

Jughead steps into the lounge, one hand stuck in his bag trying to find his wallet, dreaming of all the things he can buy from the vending machine. He’s got enough for a candy bar now, and a soda and bag of chips during lunch. But which candy bar should he get? This vending machine is the only one in the school that doesn’t play at being healthy, which means it’s always empty. It’s early enough in the morning, however, that it should be full still.

As soon as his wallet is out, Jughead drops his bag on the couch next to Archie and heads to the vending machine. Much to his delight, it  _ is  _ still full, particularly with all of Jughead’s favorites.

“Whatcha getting?” Archie asks. He sounds very casual considering just last night they were arguing about whether or not Jughead’s old enough to make decisions for himself.

Jughead shrugs. Guess they’re gonna ignore it. “I don’t know, it all looks good to me.”

“ _ Everything _ looks good to you, Jug.”

“Just get the biggest thing,” Veronica says, stepping closer and looking over his shoulder. After a moment, she points to one of the few full-sized options, and says, “That.”

It’s not the cheapest, but Jughead doesn’t mind. He pulls out the money he needs, and thanks Veronica as he’s pressing the buttons.

“It’s no problem,” she says, patting his shoulder before heading back to Archie, and sitting on the arm on the couch. Her feet go in his lap, fancy, and, more importantly,  _ expensive  _ sandals curving with her feet over his thigh. Archie curls his hand around one of her ankles, the easy affection making something inside Jughead recoil. Archie and Veronica are the quintessential Teenage Soulmates, with their flirty words tattooed over their hearts, and it’s a label that they enjoy too much if you ask him.

Jughead follows them, stuffing his wallet back in his bag and stuffing the candy in his mouth. It’s only then that he notices Cheryl’s in the lounge, too, texting someone furiously. She’s dressed to the nines like always, her hair up in a ponytail he usually only sees when she’s on the field.  _ Must’ve been a bad morning with her parents _ , he thinks.

To Archie and Veronica, he asks, “What’s up? Anything new?”

They share a look, and Veronica starts, “Actually — “

Kevin suddenly skitters in, panting a little. He’s wearing his usual dress pants and long sleeves, his shoulders a strong line. In the corner of his eye, Jughead notices Cheryl noticing said shoulders. He would comment on the fact that it’s barely the middle of September and still pretty hot outside, so layers just don’t make sense — but he’s wearing flannel over an undershirt with a jacket on top of that, so he can’t really talk. Though he does wonder, a little numbly, if Cheryl ever notices what  _ he  _ looks like.

“Did you hear?” Kevin asks, not even waiting for any of them to answer before saying, “Southside High was just shut down today!”

Jughead coughs and chokes on his candy, while Cheryl demands, “ _ What? _ ”, and Archie and Veronica both just look shocked. Archie pounds Jughead’s back, way too rough, but that’s not exactly new. Sometimes Jughead can’t help but wonder how Veronica isn’t walking around with a limp.

“What are you talking about, Kev?” Cheryl sets her phone down, the picture of fully-invested. “Schools don’t just shut down in one day.”

Kevin flops into the other chair, breathing calmed for the most part. “Apparently they do. Dad told me they arrested a teacher there for selling Jingle Jangle to students, and when they were going through his office they found  _ meth _ . The basement was being used as a meth lab. The whole thing’s being quarantined and shut down until further notice.”

“What about all the students who go there?” Jughead asks, trying to imagine what it would be like to have to transfer to a new school so suddenly, and know it’s because there was a damn meth lab right under your feet.

Kevin says, “Most of them are gonna be going to Greendale, I guess, but some are coming here.”

“Really?” Veronica asks, and Jughead can’t tell if she’s horrified and just hiding it well, or perfectly fine with having to share space with  _ even more _ poor people. “I’ve heard they all live in the same trailer park, so why are some coming here and some there?”

Cheryl scoffs. “Yeah, it’s not like there’s streets there. It can’t be  _ that  _ big.”

“Cheryl, have you ever been to a trailer park?” Jughead can’t help but ask. Sometimes, being surrounded by richie-riches makes his skin crawl. Even worse is the fact that none of them ever seem to notice when they say something ridiculous like that. “There are streets. And addresses. They’re like any other neighborhood except with trailers instead of mansions.”

“Also, it  _ is  _ that big. Southside has about as many students as Riverdale High does,” Kevin points out.

Archie says, “I thought it was smaller,” his eyebrows creased in confusion.

The next few minutes consist entirely of speculation about how many students go to Southside High — or  _ did _ , as it were — and fact-checking with the website. Jughead’s the one doing the fact checking, and he’s horrified to find that there are tons of broken links. How a school website can survive with so many is beyond him. It’s only after manually searching that Jughead finds the numbers, and triumphantly says that yes, there’s about 50 less students going there than here, but that’s all.

Argument won, Kevin changes the subject slightly. Elbow on the armrest, head in hand, and eyes up to the ceiling, he’s the picture of daydreaming. “I wonder how many people will meet their soulmates. I mean, it would make sense that at least one Southsider is the soulmate of at least one Northsider. Different backgrounds, right?”

Cheryl rolls her eyes. “Different planets, more like.”

Veronica says, “Come on, Cheryl, it can’t be that bad. They’re just like everyone else here but  poorer.” And there she fucking goes. “Kev, I think you’re right — it would only make sense that some Northsiders and Southsiders are ‘mates. Tons of ‘mates are from the same cities.”

“Even small ones?” Archie asks, to which Jughead counters, “ _ Tiny _ ones?”

To Jughead, Riverdale is simultaneously the smallest and biggest place in the world. Constricting, either way. It’s like if he moves wrong, something will pop and Riverdale will go flooding into Greendale and Centerville, all the ego and pomp and circumstance and poverty just too big for one little town to carry anymore. Other times, Jughead thinks if he drove for five hours in a straight line, he’d never be able to leave. This town, with all its pep, will go on and on forever and Jughead will never be able to escape it.

That’s too deep for the lounge. He’ll have to write it down somewhere, later, if he can remember.

“Yes, Juggie,” Veronica rolls her eyes, “Even tiny ones.”

“Hmm,” is all Jughead says back.

“Kevin, what’s yours say again?”

Not even having to think about it, or the fact that Archie’s question is sort of rude, Kevin answers, “‘You made this really easy for me.’”

Archie and Veronica both puzzle over this for a moment. Considering their words were literally  _ “Hey, I’m Archie. Are you new to Riverdale?” _ and  _ “I’m Veronica, and yes, I am! But I always knew I’d be coming here.” _ , they didn’t have much to worry about. Kevin’s words are less straightforward. Could his soulmate be talking about whatever Kevin says first, or something else entirely? Who’s to say Kevin speaks first? Who’s to say he doesn’t?

It’s clear that Kevin is having these same thoughts, by the way he’s biting his lip. Worse, Jughead thinks, is that Kevin knows every out and many closeted LGBT kids in Riverdale  _ and  _ Greendale, yet not one of them has said his words. Jughead entertains the idea of having a soulmate and thinking your whole life that you’ll love and marry this person — only to find that they are incompatible. It’s not a nice image.

“Hmm. Sounds like he already knows who you are,” Cheryl says, back to texting. She doesn’t look up when she speaks, which Jughead knows infuriates Veronica and, to a lesser degree, Archie. After several years of being her friend, he still doesn’t know if she does it on purpose (to show off her multitasking skills or to piss people off), or if she just doesn’t notice she’s doing it in the first place.

“How do you figure that?” Archie asks before Kevin can say anything.

“‘You made this really easy for me’ implies that Kevin is going to talk first and probably do it by introducing himself.” She lowers her voice and does a pretty good impression of Kevin when she says, “‘Hi, I’m Kevin from Riverdale, New York, and I’m gay!’”

Jughead can’t help but laugh at that, and neither can Archie and Veronica. That’s exactly what he would do if it meant his ‘mate would find him easier.

“I’d never say it like that!” Kevin defends, laughing. “I mean, unless it would work,” he amends, and that sets them off again.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a nice day, so Betty sits herself down in one of the foldable chairs that sit near the front of the trailer. They’re a gaudy red, and almost torn to pieces because of Hot Dog and the other dogs around the trailer park, but luckily still useable. Most of their traffic is from Betty, who finds that being outside— no matter the weather—  is almost always preferable to being inside.

Outside, there’s the hustle and bustle of people crammed together, beat down cars blazing through to the sound of children’s screams, and foot traffic, too, because everyone here knows what Betty does. 

Outside is better than inside. It’s sunny out here, a fall breeze blowing through, all sorts of things to look at that are new. There’s a feeling of community, belonging, when everyone you see has the same black leather as you.

Inside, there’s nothing worth mentioning.

Also, it’s hardly noon, and Betty is not used to being home this time of day. Not even on the weekends. There’s always something happening, someone to see, somewhere else to go. Her friends don’t like being home any more than she does.

She sighs, dragging her fingers through her hair. She didn’t have enough time this morning to put it up in an even ponytail. When she was picked up, she’d been worrying what the others would think; she’s only worn her hair down in front of her friends at the shitty dances. All three of them, in the past, have expressed thinking she should wear her hair down more, but three friends don’t have half the power that Alice Cooper does.

It didn’t end up mattering, anyway, since the police came halfway through first hour and apparently found a meth lab in the basement. Betty has known since before she started going there that drugs greased every wheel, were included in every payment made, and were as easy to get ahold of as pencils. The thing is, she’s always known that to be true of Jingle Jangle — not meth.

Jesus.  _ Meth.  _ How long has it been going on? How long has it been there? Was it common knowledge? Moreover, is everyone else just  _ perfectly okay _ with going to Riverdale High?

She pulls out her phone, sending a text to the group chat.  **_Betty:_ ** _ Code Magic _

Of course — they’re part of a gang. People in gangs don’t just talk about their emotions, not even the more modern, younger members. Being emotional or expressing anything that isn’t anger or lust is swiftly crushed in every new recruit, and especially children born to Serpents. But they’re teenagers, and Betty knows all too well that when teenagers don’t express their emotions, they explode. None of them want that, so, one night years ago now, hidden away in an abandoned tree house, they came up with codes.

**_Toni:_ ** _ whats up?? _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ u good? _

Code Magic is a catchall phrase, meaning, at its most basic,  _ I need to talk about something _ .

**_Betty:_ ** _ Yeah I’m okay _

**_Betty:_ ** _ Just _

**_Betty:_ ** _ I’m thinking about Riverdale High _

**_Fangs:_ ** _ And how fun its gonna be? _

**_Fangs:_ ** _ Bc thats what u should be thinking about _

**_Betty:_ ** _ It’s more along the lines of, we’re all gonna clash terribly even more so than Serpents do with Ghoulies _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ dont worry about that _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ unless u plan on picking fights which i doubt _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ u can throw a punch thats all that matters _

**_Toni:_ ** _ yeah and its not like we wont see each other all the time still _

**_Betty:_ ** _ Yeah _

**_Fangs:_ ** _ We prolly wont be put in the same classes but theres always lunch _

**_Toni:_ ** _ u right _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ for once in his life _

**_Fangs:_ ** _ Dude wtf _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ LMAO jk _

**_Betty:_ ** _ Guys _

**_Betty:_ ** _ Not to get disgustingly emo but I already don’t fit in well with the rest of Southside High, how am I supposed to fit in with a bunch of rich preppy assholes??? _

This is the crux of her anxieties—  not fitting in. It’s ridiculous, really. There’s no reason for her to try to fit in when she has a solid group of friends, a community to rally behind her. But she’s a perfectionist at heart, only part of that because of her mom, and in a perfect world, the North and South sides combine easily. There’s a far away image in her head of her being friends with a Northsider, maybe even the soulmate of one, but getting to keep her family, too. She can’t really say any of that, though. Can’t be too open.

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ fake it till u make it betty u know that _

**_Toni:_ ** _ she sure fuckin does _

**_Toni:_ ** _ Honey Bun is still butthurt _

**_Betty:_ ** _ I TOLD YOU THAT IN CONFIDENCE _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ WHAT _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ ITS REAL????????!?!??!?!?! _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ WE ALL THOUGHT HE WAS LYING THE WHOLE TIME BUT ???????????? U FUCKED HONEY BUN????!?!!!!!!!!!!!!! _

**_Fangs:_ ** _ B E T T Y LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO _

**_Toni:_ ** _ FUDONJASFUSFSDNFUIBJWDJFSDJFLKDSNFDFOSDNFUS _

**_Betty:_ ** _ I hate all of you wtf _

**_Betty:_ ** _ Don’t text me ever again _

**_Betty:_ ** _ You discuss me _

Betty can’t help but laugh at the inside joke. Moonie from next door, also sitting outside while her kids play on chipped concrete, smiles at her.

**_Fangs:_ ** _ YUP _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ WHAT WE BE SAYIN?? _

**_Toni:_ ** _ the truth!!! _

**_Betty:_ ** _ UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH _

“Elizabeth!” Alice calls, sticking her head out the door. Her hair is  _ perfectly  _ coiffed, despite the fact that there’s exactly zero people to dress up for. She’s frowning, which Betty can’t say isn’t familiar. “Come inside! Your worthless new principal just sent out emails. They need your information.”

With a sigh, Betty stands up, grabbing her bag. “Mom, you know all of my information already. Why do I have to do it?”

“I’m busy with something, darling, and anyway, it’s about time you started to grow up.”

The door closes with a bang behind her, her words lingering in the autumn air in front of Betty.  _ I have grown up _ , she thinks furiously, fists clenching and fingernails starting to dig into familiar grooves.  _ You have no idea. _

Betty goes inside, and for the next ten hours, she does the following: sign up for school, pick classes, chose a time to come in to get a picture taken for her new school ID, text her friends, read part of a book she’s read five times already, babysit Leah from two streets over, come home, help make dinner, eat dinner, bail Polly out of having to explain where she went after school, argue with Polly about going to the Whyte Wyrm without backup, deal with Hal’s derision, and stalk Veronica Lodge’s instagram. Apparently she’s the richest person in the school, and is on a quest to be better, if her Twitter is any proof. Particularly the tweet saying “New school, gonna be better this year #goals #wishmeluck #byebyeNY”.

The group chat pings again as Betty is laying down for bed. Their trailer only has two rooms, and Polly, as the older sister, gets the second one. Betty’s stuck with the pull out couch; if Betty had to describe it in one word, it’d be  _ lumpy _ . Also,  _ exposed  _ and  _ terrible  _ and  _ just another piece of a shitty home _ .

Betty rolls her eyes at herself. Lately, one bad thing happening has been enough to ruin her whole day. Good things haven’t done much to cheer her up. She’s getting tired of it.

**_Toni:_ ** _ no fr tho rh will be interesting _

**_Toni:_ ** _ not fun but interesting _

**_Fangs:_ ** _ Wtf r u talking about ofc itll be fun _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ yeah good teachers drinkable water flushable toilets whats not to like? _

**_Betty:_ ** _ Asshole bulldogs _

**_Toni:_ ** _ asshole vixens _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ ok idk what vixens r exactly but i do know serpents eat them and bulldogs for breakfast _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ also we can just fight them _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ get ur code snake ready _

Code Snake has only been used once before. Last year, when Boone, now graduated and living on the far edge of the trailer park, got into a fight with a Ghoulie. He’d been beaten so bad, Code Snake was called in, and Betty’d been there when the main perpetrator of the fight was pummeled. Afterwards, she’d thrown up in the bushes, and Fangs had said, “Get the fuck over it or we’ll lose you, too.” Thankfully, it hasn’t happened again. Betty is pretty sure she hasn’t gotten over it, but her friends don’t need to know that.

**_Fangs:_ ** _ Iss been ready _

**_Toni:_ ** _ always _

She sighs quietly, tugging the blanket up and the hem of her nightshirt down. As per usual, a nice day means a cold night here in Riverdale, and that means Betty’s in one of her bigger shirts, bought for the sole purpose of sleeping in. She has the ones made of thin, soft material that cover her arms better, but those barely retain any heat. The Coopers’ trailer’s AC is busted, leaving her freezing. God, she can’t wait for Polly to move out so she can finally,  _ finally  _ have a room to herself. Good AC to herself.

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ okay harry fuckin potter _

**_Betty:_ ** _ Didn’t Snape say that line? _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ idfk _

**_Fangs:_ ** _ If u knew it was from harry potter u prolly know who said it thats just facts _

**_Toni:_ ** _ lmao _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ whatever bitches _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ go the fuck to sleep _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ what r u doing up so late _

Betty laughs out loud at that. They all know how much he loves Harry Potter, and how far he’ll go to deny it. Luckily, Betty has picture evidence, provided by Sweet Pea’s mom — young Sweet Pea, dressed to the nines in a Harry Potter robe and glasses, crooked-as-all-hell lightning bolt on the wrong side of his face, broom in hand. Betty has it saved  _ everywhere _ : her phone, her computer, the family computer, and her school account. Toni and Fangs do, too, meaning that no matter what Sweet Pea does, it’ll never die.

**_Fangs:_ ** _ Its almost 11 _

**_Toni:_ ** _ r u a grandma now??? _

**_Betty:_ ** _ I always said it was only a matter of time _

**_Sweet Pea:_ ** _ YALL D I S C U S S ME _

**_Toni:_ ** _ what do we be sayin?? _

**_Fangs:_ ** _ The truth!!! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the inside joke:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Please comment I'll love you forever


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Southside High kids come to Riverdale High and Jug and Betty meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [Mari](writeraquamarinara.tumblr.com) for the beta!!!
> 
> Warning for explicit language

S outhside High shut down on a Tuesday, and it’s not until the following Monday that the students transfer over. Jughead knows it’s because the administration needs time to set everything up -- classes and lunches and free periods and emails and all; exactly like when Veronica first came but on a much larger scale -- but the part of him that enjoys intrigue and shitting on the school thinks that maybe, just maybe, they wait so long so that every student at Riverdale High can be properly anxious. 

Jughead himself is not anxious by nature, or he tries not to be at least, but there’s nothing quite like seeing all of your friends grow more and more tense as the days pass.  _ What will the new students think? Will they join the football team? Are any of them actually interested in being friends with us? Should I make them cookies? What do you think they look like? _ And of course, Cheryl’s,  _ I will not allow Riverdale High's above average GPA to suffer because of classrooms that are overcrowded with underachievers. _ Jughead can’t remember the last time a topic stayed talked about so long. He and his friends move on from things like, like --  _ ugh _ , he thinks, scrubbing at his face and dragging his fingers through his hair -- whatever simile there is that accurately describes it.

The walls become covered in signs, welcoming the new students, advertising clubs that are still open. There’s an assembly for the entire school where they’re told more details, and are encouraged to be friendly and welcoming. All Jughead hears is the unsaid, ‘ _ Make us look good! _ ’

He’s not a fan of it, the bullshit Weatherbee and all the rest peddle. It’s not a bad school by any means, but he hates it here, with the constant bullying, and the slut shaming and hazing rituals, and the food -- dear god the food. Jughead is probably the poorest person going to this school, so he  _ has  _ to eat the food, but it’s disgusting. The mystery meat is truly a mystery, and not in a good way. The bread is hard, the apples soft, every bag of chips healthy in some way at the cost of taste. If anyone wants a soda with even a single grain of sugar in it, they have to buy it in the lounge or bring it from home. Not many people complain about the soda, though. Jughead’s pretty sure the only reason why they don’t is because being rich breeds laziness, and it’s much easier to just buy the gross and way overpriced flavored water than go all the way to the lounge.

Jughead shakes his head to get all thoughts of the school food out of his head. Back to why he isn’t happy with the school ( _ this time _ ).

Maybe it’s just the way it feels patronizing. Of course he’ll be nice to the new students -- as nice as he is to anyone he isn’t friends with, that is. But there is no way in hell that he’s going to look a Southsider, or  _ anyone  _ for that matter, in the face and tell them all the ways Riverdale High is a perfect beacon of education.

Veronica, on the other hand, is more than happy to do so, and on Friday, she finds him in the Blue & Gold office, fancy expensive New York City chocolate cupcakes in tow. Jughead returns to the background screen of the school computer, not interested in her nosing around his personal writing.

“You only bring cupcakes when you fuck up,” he notes. It’s not the nicest way to say it, but he and Veronica have an understanding -- neither of them would bullshit the other. It’s the only way they can coexist.

“Actually,” she corrects, setting her bag down on a table, but not giving the cupcakes over yet. “I sometimes bring cupcakes to preempt things.”

“Like?”

“Like, you promising to be there when I welcome the new students.” She smiles winningly, quirking an eyebrow.

He crosses his arms, tipping his chin down.

Veronica visibly changes tactics, face falling. The hand not holding the cupcakes flies to her chest, pressing flat over her heart. “Please, Juggiekins! I’m trying to be a better person, you know that, and that means welcoming the new students and hopefully making new friends, and if I do make new friends then I want you to be friends with them, too, and that means I need us to be a united front.”

After a moment, Jughead asks, “Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see the cupcakes?” He reaches out for them, making a grabby hand like a child.

She starts to hand them over, but snatches the box back before he even touches it. “Can you promise you’ll be there?”

Instead of answering, Jughead curls his fingers and stretches them out a few times. Veronica hands it over, finally, Judgy Eyes in full affect.

Jughead waits until he’s shoved a cupcake in his mouth to say, “Fine, Veronica, but stop calling me Juggiekins.”

Smirking, Veronica pulls him into a hug, and squeals, “Thank you,  _ Juggiekins _ ! You won’t regret this!”

Except that he does. He absolutely, one-hundred percent  _ does _ regret this. Standing around, waiting for a horde of kids, most of whom he expects won’t be happy to be here…. It’s not his scene, to say the least. Especially considering that Veronica has asked, oh, about 99% of the school to be standing here with her. She wanted a united front, and she’s gotten it.

Jughead stands with Veronica and Archie, but there’s no talking to them when there are Bulldogs and other Rich Girls around. Jughead is really only their friend because he and Archie have a history, and it’s days like these that he remembers just how different they are. Kindergartners and sophomores -- big difference, there.

He sighs and rubs at his forehead, trying to stop thinking about it. But what else is there to think about? His grades are fine, his dad is drunk, his mom and sister are gone. His friends are rich, and he’s not. The Blue & Gold isn’t ready to be published. He’s clearly in a fucking depressive spiral, or something.

The doors open. The flood comes in.

Jughead notices, first and foremost, that most of the new students are wrapped up in leather. They wear jeans, dark colored shirts, and leather jackets. It’s like he’s staring at the Outsiders, except significantly less white and heteronormative and male. Still, as he looks at each new face, he gets the same sense of camaraderie Ponyboy and Sodapop and Darry and all the rest give him. These Southsiders, they stand so close together, touching hip-to-hip, it’s clear they feel uncomfortable. It’s not like he can blame them.

Veronica smiles at them, her Business Woman Smile, and Jughead can’t help but be surprised at how well she’s hiding her true feelings. “On behalf of the students and faculty here at Riverdale High, welcome to your new school! To ease this transition, I've set up a registration desk where you can get your locker assignments, class schedules, and a list of sports and extracurriculars.”

_ Jesus, _ he thinks.  _ Veronica Lodge just doesn’t quit. _

“We encourage each and every one of you to drink deeply from the cup that is fair Riverdale.”

Jughead’s eyes slide to a girl in the very front. As part of the whole, she doesn’t stand out much, but there she is, tucked in between two other girls, several (intimidatingly shaped) boys further on the left. She’s blonde, green-eyed, about the same height as himself. The girl on her right is obviously her sister, the only difference being eye color and how tall they are. The girl on her left is shorter, with darker skin and longer hair, pink streaks drawing his eye. But still, it’s the girl in the middle who he can’t really look away from. Something about her just makes him want to, to  _ write _ , to express himself somehow. It’s not attraction, not really. But she is beautiful, there’s no denying that.

It’s more like a pull, a magnet, a million things he couldn’t possibly describe even if he had a thesaurus on hand.

Suddenly, he’s not looking at her jaw (which could cut diamond, he swears to god) but at her chin (strong), and his eyes slide up to her lips (a soft smile, no teeth,  _ soft soft soft  _ \-- but why does he care if her lips are soft, what’s wrong with him?) and her nose (long bridge, not small but not big, perfectly proportioned), and then, her eyes. Her very green, tired eyes, which are narrowed. For some reason, he notes the fact that they’re lightly made up -- Cheryl would say  _ not nearly done enough _ , Veronica would say  _ natural is so in _ , Archie would say  _ pretty _ , Jughead would say -- 

_ Shit, _ he thinks, but for some reason, he can’t look away. There’s no looking away from her.

He hears, in the back of his mind, Reggie Mantle say something that gets a laugh out of someone,  other voices and laughing . Archie’s voice is a background noise, the sound of shoes on linoleum as the crowd passes by, his heart beat is pounding, and then -- 

“Why don’t you take a picture, creep?”

* * *

 

There’s something about the Northside, about Riverdale High, that makes Betty feel small and sick. It makes Sweet Pea feel the same way, she can see it plain as day in his eyes and his shoulders. He’s angry, too, and jealous, and disgusted.

_ Is it the houses? _ She wonders. They’re so big, so pretentious. It’s clear that no one in the Northside wants for space. Maybe it’s the people. A young mom on an early morning jog (and maybe it’s that? The fact that they have to get up an hour and a half earlier to get to Riverdale High) eyes them suspiciously, clutching the stroller tighter. Her prejudice is so obvious it makes Betty want to jump out of the car and fight her, yell in her face, ‘Where do you get off judging us?’

Even if Fangs’ older sister’s car had four doors, Betty would never do it. But it’s nice to entertain the thought. Toni pokes her in the leg, and whispers, “Earth to Betts?”

“Sorry,” she says, trying to smile. “Just distracted.”

“More Code Magic?”

Betty shrugs. “I guess.”

Polly flips her hair over her shoulder. “Betty. Chill out for a little while, why don’t you? It’ll be fine.”

“I know that, Polly,” Betty says, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I’d like to talk about something other than this new school,” Fangs complains from the front seat. Sweet Pea is driving despite Fangs’ claim to the car, age and height playing major factors in that. Fangs is the youngest of them all, but that claim goes a long way in getting the passenger seat. Toni is stuck behind Sweet Pea, as she’s the shortest; Polly is the oldest and she didn’t want the middle seat. So that’s where Betty is, tucked so tight between them it feels like they could meld easily.

“Let’s talk about all the new dick,” Polly says, and immediately she, Toni, and Fangs start discussing the likelihood of the Long-As-A-Football Dick, mythical as it is. Toni bets the other two that if it does in fact exist, and someone at Riverdale High does in fact have the Dick, then she’ll be the one to have it first. 

Sweet Pea laughs and says, “Would it even fit, pipsqueak?”

“It’s crazy what the human body can do,” she says, “Take for example  _ your  _ dick, which is so small it retracts back into you when you lay down at night.”

The only appropriate reaction to that is to cackle, which Betty, Polly, and Fangs take great glee in doing. Sweet Pea says, “I swear to god, one of these days I’m gonna jerk the steering wheel.”

“I double dog dare you,” Fangs exclaims, much to the rest of the car’s amusement.

By the time they get to the school, all of the other cars parking in the back corner alongside theirs, Betty is more than ready to face the day. It’s just a new school. She won’t even have to make any new friends. What’s so scary about that?

They step inside and it’s like she’s immediately doused with ice water.

Riverdale High is a thousand times nicer than Southside High has ever been. There are no dead bugs on the floor, or living ones, and the windows are clean. The floor is shining. The smell of B.O. isn’t there. It’s not disgustingly hot. There’s the distant sound of a toilet flushing, which is a novelty in and of itself . She’s sure that if she went to girls’ bathroom, she’d actually find pads and tampons in the dispenser.  _ Though maybe, _ she thinks derisively,  _ they go for ten bucks a pop here. _

Betty and her friends are at the front of the pack. Sweet Pea is so tall that he’s usually pushed to the front, because apparently height equals leadership now. There’s a beautiful girl and a good looking boy standing at a table. Behind them stand approximately ten million people, all dressed in Dolce and Gabbana or Gucci or whatever the fuck it is. She launches right into an obviously pre-prepared speech about how wonderful and amazing Riverdale High is, and how welcome they all should feel.

The people behind the welcome committee are staring. Her gut screams that she’s being watched; goosebumps break out on her arms. She catches one boy staring right at her breasts, and bile rises in her throat. Toni tugs her a little closer, and even then, she doesn’t feel much better.

There’s one boy, though, who looks out of place. Boots, dark wash baggy jeans, flannel, sherpa jacket. The way his lips are flat instead up curled up or down catches her eye. They’re nice lips.

She looks away, at a boy who’s obviously a Bulldog and has an ego the size of a small planet. He makes a joke, one she has no interest in hearing, and Sweet Pea says something back -- she doesn’t hear what he says, either, but hears the absence of anger in his voice. Plenty of warning, though.

At her side, Toni smirks, and says, just quiet enough that only they can hear, “Careful, he bites.”

Betty smiles mirthfully, and looks back over the crowd. She’s handed a paper from the table, though before she can look it over, she notices that the boy who looks out of place is staring at her.  _ He has nice eyes _ , she thinks, almost regretfully. Every cute guy is a creep, and this one is no exception.

Fangs starts to lead them away, and Betty takes the opportunity to stand up for herself. The boys at this school need to know right now, they can’t mess with her. “Why don’t you take a picture, creep?”

Those nice eyes widen, and then she’s past him, and it doesn’t matter anymore.

S w eet Pea stops their group against a door that says, “CAUTION! DO NOT ENTER!” and in smaller print, “Roof Access”. Betty ends up leaning against the wall, Fangs at her side. Polly, Sweet Pea, and Toni stand across from them, facing the way they’d come. Betty can only see the backs of the Northsiders, their heads turned so they can try and eavesdrop. Her hands curl into fists.

“Okay, I’m gonna invoke Code Lockdown right now,” he says, and Betty stiffens even more. Code Lockdown is usually used only in dangerous situations, when in-fighting or arguing could get them hurt. Does Sweet Pea really think they’re in danger? Should she think that too? “We gotta stick together and stay safe. Who knows what the snooty bitches at this school will do if they catch one of us alone.”

“Probably exactly what any average Ghoulie would,” Polly says, flipping her hair over her shoulder again. Betty can’t help but look for the long-since faded bruises on Polly’s neck, and then forces herself to stop. No reason to hash that up.

Sweet Pea nods, crossing his arms. “Yeah. I’m thinking that too, which is why I think we should pair up. Polly, you’re a senior, plus you give no fucks. You should still try to find someone so you’re never alone, not for a while at least, but you’re probably good.”

“You’re damn right I am. Is that all for me or can I go?” She peers at her schedule and the map of the school, both provided to them through the mail.  That girl at the table must have extra copies or something.  “My first class is way on the other side of the school. And it looks like we’re gonna run out of time.”

“You’re good to go,” Sweet Pea says, and then they’re all saying goodbye to Polly, who waves sweetly. And flips her hair. Again.

“What about us?” Toni asks. Betty recognizes her tone; she’s not tolerating any bullshit today.

“You and me are juniors, while Betts and Fangs are sophomores.”

“So?” Fangs questions.

“ _ So _ , dumbass, you little babies need a big kid to protect you.”

“This was your idea!” Betty says, scoffing. Fangs gives her a fist bump in solidarity.

“No, actually, it was your mom’s, but I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Oops.” He shrugs, smirking. “She wanted me with you, so Toni, you got Fangs. Walk each other to class.”

Toni glares up at Sweet Pea. “Our classes are in opposite directions.”

“Then get a move on,” Sweet Pea suggests, and then attempts to pull Betty along with him down the hall.

Toni’s voice stops them, though, as does Betty digging her heels in. “Who gets walked to class first, o magnificent Mr. Pea? Me or him? Me, right? Because I’m smaller?”

“You’re small, period, Toni. And anyway, it’s like I just said -- Alice Cooper says jump, I’m gonna ask how high. Check laws five and six.”

Fangs says, “Man, whatever. You only wanna listen to her when she says things you like.”

“Yeah, you’re all about not listening to your parents except when it comes to mine?” Betty asks, more than angry with him and her mom and the stupid, sexist ways of the Serpents. None of the laws say she can’t criticize the gang.

Sweet Pea opens his mouth to answer, probably to tell them to stop ganging up on him, but there’s a shout from down the hall. When they all turn to look, they see that Nix and that Bulldog from earlier are throwing punches.

“Fuck,” Sweet Pea breathes, already heading over. Fangs is right behind him.

“Code Snake,” Toni says, anger forgotten.

Betty squeezes her eyes closed, counts to five, and then follows her friends into the fray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment I'll love you forever


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter can be described in two words: Squad Goals
> 
> Also: So Many Emotions and,
> 
> #CluelessBetty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to dear Mari for the beta <3
> 
> Minor warnings for a coming out scene (it goes fine), and lots of not exactly nice teasing between friends who are used to this and are okay with being teased this way
> 
> I have no idea what my update schedule is gonna be but I posted the first 3 chaps 3 days apart each, and I have 5 chapters waiting to be posted sooooo idk

_ Why don’t you take a picture, creep? _

Jughead takes one step towards her -- his soulmate, no wonder he’s having these weird thoughts, she’s his  _ soulmate  _ \-- a hand coming up to reach out and touch her, get her attention.

Then reality comes crashing down on him in the form of Archie Andrews.

“Jughead! Dude, what are you doing?”

Jughead doesn’t turn to look at him, instead watching the girl walk down the hall.  _ I can ignore Archie, _ he thinks,  _ it doesn’t matter. I’ll say sorry later. I just need to -- _

Veronica’s nails dig into Jughead’s shoulder. “United front,” she reminds. There’s warning in her voice not to ignore her, and he’s reminded of the time that Reggie hit on Josie right after the whole McCoy/Keller Affair came to light, despite Veronica’s strict instructions not to. Reggie went home that day to find that Veronica had spent her free period complaining to Reggie’s mom about all the people he bullies. There’s no telling what Veronica will do to Jughead, but he doesn’t want to risk her talking to his dad.

He shrugs her off, gruffs, “Fine,” and goes to stand next to Cheryl.

“What do you want,” she says, ostensibly a question. It’s obvious how little she cares.

“Nothing,” he sighs. “I just don’t want to talk to any more Bulldogs than I absolutely have to.”

Distastefully, she says, “They  _ do  _ kill brain cells at an absurd rate.”

Jughead nods, fully in agreement. He doesn’t say anything else, though, and neither does she.  T ogether, they watch as Southsiders who aren’t Serpents talk to Veronica and Archie, and take the papers. None of them seem all that interested in The Blue & Gold. Part of Jughead can’t help but feel angry that none of them care, but the majority of him just enjoys keeping it the way it is. He, Kevin, and Veronica have a good thing going. Adding more people would only mess that up.

Cheryl says, “Oh god, what is he doing,” just as Jughead looks away from the table.

She’s talking about Reggie, who’s standing way too close to a Serpent. The Serpent is about the same height as Reggie but quite a bit thicker, with bright blue hair down to his shoulders. He’s got glasses that came straight out of the 1980s, and under his leather, he’s wearing a shirt with the Rugrats emblazoned on it. It’s not an intimidating picture, yet he looks furious, lips a flat line and eyes narrowed (and horrifically enlarged).

Jughead rolls his eyes. “What the fuck, Reggie.”

He and Cheryl share a look and decide to intervene, but they don’t get even halfway there before Reggie is punching the Serpent.

Later on, in between homeroom and first hour, Jughead sees Josie in the lounge. She steps aside so he can get to the vending machine, and asks, “What happened this morning? I swear I only stepped away to pee and suddenly it’s like there’s a full out war.”

Pressing the buttons for the full-sugar Pepsi, Jughead says, “I honestly have no idea. Cheryl and I were chilling, we looked up, and then Reggie was punching blue-haired Bubbles from the Trailer Park Boys. Some other Serpents came and helped the Bulldogs break it up.”

“Wow.” She watches as he pulls his soda out, then pushes him gently so she can get one, too. She prefers Coca-Cola though, which is an unforgivable sin as far as Jughead knows. “What’d Ronnie think of all that?”

“To say the least, she was  _ not  _ happy. I think Mrs. Mantle is about to get another visit.”

Josie laughs at that. “Well, if you find out anything about it, let me know. I wish she could  Instagram Live that conversation somehow.”

“That would be awesome,” Jughead agrees, somewhat stilted. “Anyway, I gotta go. See you at lunch?”

“Yeah, probably. Bye,” she waves.

“Bye,”  he says, lifting a hand to wave back.

For the next few hours, Jughead finds it impossible to pay attention to anything, especially his teachers. At some point, Kevin slides a gross but healthy granola bar in front of Jughead, saying, “I hate these, I don’t know why I packed it.”

“Thanks,” he says, quickly opening it and taking a bite. Yeah, it’s disgusting. No wonder Kevin doesn’t like them. Still, he takes another bite.

K evin laughs at him, he thinks. He must’ve made a face with his first bite. Whatever. Jughead still eats the whole thing.

Nothing else registers, not until lunch. It’s Pizza Monday, which he likes well enough, but the only two types are cheese and pepperoni. If he could have it his way, there’d be supreme and meat lover’s and mushroom/olive/pepperoni and buffalo chicken. And the sides would be better than soggy, tasteless steak fries, and soft pears. At least Jughead brought his salt and pepper shakers today -- he’d eat the fries either way, but now it won’t be like eating mush.

He sets his tray down at the regular table, where Archie and Kevin are already sitting. “Hey, Jug,” they say at the same time.

“Hey,” he says back, promptly shoving a slice of pizza in his mouth. He has five, because the lunch ladies know him well enough by now to know one isn’t enough. As he’s chewing, Veronica and Cheryl get to the table as well, and Jughead finds himself squished between Kevin and Cheryl. Josie comes by soon after, settling in next to Veronica.

“Hudson just texted me and they’re coming back for Halloween!” Josie tells them excitedly, referring to her soulmate. Hudson lives in the city, and met Josie while she and the Pussycats were performing there. Josie doesn’t get to see them often, though as far as Jughead knows, they Skype every night. 

Veronica squeals, while Cheryl just smiles (it’s genuine, which is all that can be asked for). “That’s so awesome! They better be taking you out on a date! I’ll help you get ready and everything,” Veronica says, mind running a mile a minute. 

Jughead briefly tunes out while Kevin, Veronica, and Cheryl talk about whether or not it’s Josie’s responsibility to take Hudson on a date. Josie is native to Riverdale and it would make more sense, but when she last went out to see them, she was the one who took them out. So isn’t it their turn? Is it possible one of them could text Hudson and tell them where the best date spots are?

Okay, so maybe Jughead doesn’t tune out. He might as well, though, because all he does while they have this conversation is inhale pizza, drink the chocolate milk out of the carton, and stare at a hole in the collar of Archie’s shirt.

“Dude, you good?” Archie eventually asks, catching everyone’s attention.

Jughead blinks, swallows, and says, “Yeah, m’fine.”

“Not paying attention?” Kevin teases.

“I mean, I’m excited for you Josie, but I don’t have anything to add to this conversation. I don’t know any date spots.”

Inexplicably, Veronica takes that as Jughead saying,  _ ‘I’m sad that I’m single and have never gone on a date except once in 7th grade with Joani Jumpp.’ _ “Oh Jug,” she says, heartbreak softening her face. “I can change that.”

“Best friend’s soulmate isn’t exactly my type -- “

“Cheryl, smack him for me.” 

Cheryl does, taking great glee in it. It’s just his arm, and it doesn’t hurt that bad, but still he crows, “I’m being abused!”

While the others are laughing, Veronica is all business. “Jughead Jones, you know that’s not what I meant. I can set you up with someone. Ethel Muggs, maybe?”

Briefly remembering 3rd grade and how infatuated Ethel had been with him, Jughead shudders. “No! No, look, Ronnie, I’m good. Not interested. I don’t need you to play matchmaker.”

“But -- “

He sighs heavily, and says, “Just stop, okay? I’m ace-spectrum. Just stop.”

For a long moment, the table is silent. Jughead has never told anyone that before, and in one fell swoop, now all of his friends know.  I t’s not like he’s ashamed of it, or embarrassed, either. He’s just never said anything.

“What?” Archie eventually says, immediately followed by Kevin’s, “ _ What _ ? Jug, are you kidding me?”

Uncomfortable, Jughead shrugs. “No.”

“Are you… just ace-spec, or do you have a more specific -- ?”

“Demi,” he says, “And I’d love to stop talking about this.”

The girls take pity on him, or they try to at least, by turning the conversation to soulmates. Jughead’s side of the table has the three people in their group who haven’t met their soulmates yet, and he’s going to continue to include himself in that, because he doesn’t know a thing about his soulmate other than that she’s beautiful and she’s a Serpent.

Cheryl takes a gingerly bite of her pizza, then takes a sip of her fancy, expensive La Croix. “I don’t ever need to meet my soulmate,” she declares. Her voice is confident but for anyone who knows her, it’s plain as day that that’s either not the truth, or she’s playing at something.

Josie and Veronica both make faces. Archie says, “Cher, it’s a lot better than you think.”

“Better?” Veronica demands, clearly not liking the word.

“Greater,” Archie corrects, pecking her on the lips. Jughead looks down at the last slice of pizza on his plate, and wonders if he can convince the cafeteria ladies to let him have more.

“Why do you think that?” Kevin asks Cheryl, but Archie thinks he’s asking him. 

“They all say that your ‘mate is the closest thing you’ll ever get to heaven,” he says, somewhat dreamily, and Jughead wonders where exactly he heard that. “A best friend, a confidante, a lover….”

_ Must be nice, _ Jughead thinks. “Ew,” he says, and puts on an air of hurt, “I used to be those first two things, you know. But I’ve been replaced.” He puts his hand up, palm facing Archie. “It’s okay, I get it. I’m just saying, what does Veronica have that I don’t?”

“All the necessary parts?” Josie suggests, much to the rest of the table’s amusement.

“Wait,” Archie says after a moment, “How are you gonna -- I mean, what’s your relationship gonna be like with your soulmate, Jug?”

He shrugs. “Whatever they want and I can give them, I guess.”

“What about -- ?”

“Don’t,” Jughead, Kevin, and Cheryl all say at once, immediately followed by Jughead turning to look at Cheryl, and mouthing, ‘ _ What? _ ’

She widens her eyes at him balefully, raising her eyebrows and flaring a nostril. He turns away.

“It’s rude to just ask that,” Kevin explains for him. “And anyway, I was asking Cheryl why she said she doesn’t need her ‘mate, not you.”

Archie, blushing, says, “Oh.”

“It’s okay, bro,” Jughead offers, not wanting him to beat himself up too much. “You didn’t know.”

Veronica lets that settle in for a moment, then asks, “Yeah, Cheryl, why  _ do  _ you think that?”

Cheryl says, “I’m just better off without one. Jason, as you all know, has no mark, and mine implies that whoever it is knows who I am already. From that, I can only conclude that they know me and want nothing to do with me, which is fine. That different background clause -- I assume they’re poor, and I do not want a poor soulmate. No offense, Jughead.”

Ahh, there she is. Jughead munches on the fries, taking the ones Josie offers happily. “Offense taken, Cheryl.”

“Hmm. Sounds like your problem.”

“Are you saying being impoverished isn’t enough of a problem?”

“Are you trying to evoke Chrissy Teigen levels of sass here? Because it’s not working.”

“The fact that you recognized it means it is, actually. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

“No, but I do, and I’m going to have to ban you from speaking ever again,” she says.

“Oh my god,” Veronica says, “I love Chrissy Teigen!”

Topic successfully changed, Jughead takes a bite out of his apple. It’s perfectly hard. Finally, some good food.

He spends the rest of lunch listening to his friends talk about different celebrities, and thinks about telling them he actually saw his soulmate today. Veronica, Archie, and Kevin would be excited, while Josie would be happy but cautious, and Cheryl would make fun of him while getting a full background check. 

Okay yeah, not happening.  T he last thing he wants is to have them fawning all over him like he’s some charity case, or hounding the girl down. And he’s sure that they all would, because they’re all ridiculously overprotective, and smart, and capable, and well off, at the very least.

The conversation turns to how Kevin’s younger sisters are doing, and Jughead’s spine stiffens.

_ He  _ has a younger sister. One he hasn’t heard from in over a month now, all of his calls going straight to voicemail. He never leaves a message, though, too angry and upset to risk it. Occasionally, Gladys Jones will call him back, when she knows he won’t pick up, like at four am, or two pm, and leaves messages saying how sorry she is to have missed his call. She’s not sorry at all, though, and they both know it.

_ Before lunch is over, _ he decides,  _ I’m gonna call again. And this time, I’m gonna leave a voicemail of my own. _

* * *

 

Polly, caught somewhere between anger and embarrassment  (she had walked into her new class and was immediately humiliated, apparently) , catches up with them in the gym. The principal conveniently waited until Betty was about to step into her new homeroom to announce over the intercoms (which actually work!), “All former Southside High students, please report to the competition gym  for the welcome assembly . It is mandatory.”

As it turns out, Riverdale High has a smaller gym and a bigger one. It’s the bigger one where they find themselves sitting through an assembly, and though it makes sense that there’s more room in this one, Betty still feels sure that they picked it to house the assembly so they can show off some more. ‘Cause, see,  _ big  _ doesn’t cover it -- this gym is huge, and perfectly decorated, a big scoreboard on the wall, with banners hung everywhere. There are tons of sponsors for this school, and lots of athletes, and lots of awards.  Obviously better than Southside High in every way.

Betty, sitting between Fangs and the railing, feels more bored than she has ever been in her whole life. It takes a long time for all the Southside High kids to get rounded up and forced in, and then there’s a minor technical issue with their freakin’ Macbook not showing up on the projector, and through it all, her friends keep up a never ending conversation about the rumor they heard. Polly asks what it is,  for once out of the loop,  and as far as Betty hears, it’s like this: Southside High’s basement had a meth lab, and Riverdale High’s basement has the dead body of the longest serving teacher there, Mrs. Geraldine Grundy.  Apparently, she started teaching here the year it opened (1941 or 1942, they aren’t sure), and served until she died in about 2006. She died at her desk, or maybe in bed at home, but probably at her desk. Several students say they’ve seen her ghost haunting the halls. Her friends, she thinks, could talk about this one thing for hours.

Once all the tech is finally working, the principal gives a long (very, very, very, very, very, very long) spiel about the history of the school. Next is the behavior rules, and how far someone has to go to get detention and calls home. He glares at the crowd and admonishes fighting, deadnaming Nix in the process and blaming the whole fight with Star Football Player Reggie Fucking Mantle on him. He says, “Fighting will not be tolerated,” like it’s going to scare them all straight.

Schedules are spoken about, and the daily schedule too. They go over the map of the school. Tryouts for every sport imaginable are listed and forcibly implanted in their brains. As is the dress code, and while they don’t say anything about the leather jackets, they do say it’s highly discouraged to flaunt “gang paraphernalia” on campus.  S uddenly, Betty is attached to her jacket. They’ll have to rip it from her cold, dead body before she willingly takes it off now.

Other things are explained, videos watched, and then they move on to clubs.

Without exaggerating, there are about ten million clubs to join. They go by gender first, so Betty finds herself listening to spiels about girls’ wrestling, girls’ softball, girls’ basketball, girls’ volleyball, and cheerleading, and five separate book clubs that only read certain types of books. One is for “female meninists.” Betty glances over, and thank god, Sweet Pea and Fangs both look disgusted. Another club is for home economics. 

Boys’ clubs are much of the same, though Betty can’t say much because she pays no attention to them. However, she does know that Sweet Pea and Fangs talk in undertones about joining this or that sport.

The unisex clubs are much more interesting: swimming, Future Business Leaders of America, tennis, making and recording music, the school newspaper, Gay-Straight Alliance, something called “Fun With Chemistry”, and more.

Toni perks up when they talk about cheerleading, which they explain has a dance element and is run by the one and only Cheryl Blossom. At Southside High, there’d been no cheerleaders, because there was simply no interest from anyone. But now Betty’s wondering, based on the way Toni smiles when she sees pictures of the past competitions, if her friend has been interested in it the whole time and just never said anything.

When they talk about GSA, Betty looks over again, and finds that both Fangs and Toni look interested. That settles that question, then -- she’ll be joining it. After all, the meeting schedule doesn’t look too bad, and if her friends are in it, it’ll be easier to get rides.

Betty herself is most interested in the school newspaper, the Blue & Gold. She wrote for the Red & Black before it was shut down, and she’s been itching to write ever since. It’s been months, and none of the teachers gave a shit about her essays so she never tried very hard. She wants, desperately, to go to college, to get out of this town, but she knows it’s not likely. Her grades aren’t going to help one way or the other, not at Southside High and not here, either.

Doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to write, though.

Writing is the only way she can escape, other than reading, but it’s not like there’s lots of room at home for books. E-books cost money she doesn’t have. Notebooks, though? Paper and pencil? Those are cheap, easily replaced when one runs out, and they don’t take up nearly as much room. The only downside is that it’s a lot harder to share your work when it’s in your sloppy handwriting in a ratty wide ruled notebook. Those writings don’t change the world. They just sit at the bottom of a box, gathering dust.

She’s still thinking about it when they’re setting up school emails, and decides to tell her friends once they’re out of here about her plans. In the meantime, she asks them, “What are you guys thinking about GSA? Gonna join?”

Toni says, “Probably.” She lights up at the very words, and Betty’s reminded that Toni’s dad is way less cool about Toni’s fluidity than her grandpa is. Also that Southside High had a GSA, but it was pretty much just Joaquin and a few other gay boys who met up to cruise. Toni had not been given a warm welcome the one time she went. Betty is positive this bubbly, straight-from-a-sitcom school has a better one, though, one Toni will be free to join.

Fangs says, deceptively casual, “I will if you will.”

W i th a shrug, Toni replies, “I guess we are, then. What about you, Betty?”

_ And be forced to talk about my feelings? No thanks _ , is her immediate first response. But she knows that GSA isn’t actually like a therapy session, and that she wouldn’t be forced to do anything like that. Still, she’s not exactly comfortable with it. “I don’t know,” she says. “Doesn’t seem like my scene.”

Polly says, “Is  _ anything  _ your scene?”, and the others laugh.

She’s not trying to be mean, Betty reminds herself. None of them are. Betty straightens up, and wills her voice not to be tight, to be as sweet as can be. “Yeah, actually. And none of them are the last stall in the men’s bathroom at the Bijou.”

“Ooh,” Sweet Pea immediately draws out, while Fangs and Toni laugh uproariously. Betty, despite herself, feels accomplished. Sometimes she forgets why she’s friends with these people, why it works out. This is why -- she can make them laugh, and vice versa. One minute they’re making fun of each other, and the next, they’re protecting and caring and loving.

Glaring, Polly huffs and stomps away, towards her senior friends who came along to Riverdale High.

Fangs slaps Betty on the back, not hard but enough that she moves with the force of it. “Nice one,” he praises. Sweet Pea nods, and then the line moves, so if Toni reacts, Betty doesn’t see it.

“Do you think it’s true?” Fangs asks in an undertone, meant only for Sweet Pea’s ears but projecting a little too far.

Betty spins on her heel and says, “It’s not true at all. And if you spread that rumour around, I’ll have to kill you, laws or no laws.”

Toni laughs, “You’re serious, huh?”

“In a serious mood swing,” Fangs says, looking annoyed.

“I just thought we all understood that only  _ I _ am allowed to make fun of  _ my  _ sister,” she says, taking another step forward even though the line hasn’t moved yet.

Sweet Pea follows her, slinging an arm over her shoulders. Betty comes up to just past his shoulders, and they’ve been friends for years, so it’s an easy gesture. All their previous arguing is forgotten in the face of comfort, which he somehow knows she needs. He presses the sides of their hips together. “Chill out, Betts. No one is gonna say anything about your precious sister.”

“They better not,” she mutters.

“They won’t,” he says again. “Anyway, I was thinking. How’d those Bulldog assholes like it if they were forced to welcome a couple Serpents on their team, huh? We’re solid enough. And basketball -- they won’t be able to tell me no.”

“Yeah, who’d turn down Long Legs McGee?” She laughs. “That’s not a bad idea, as long as you can keep your temper in check. You know these Northsiders won’t hesitate to blame shit on us.”

“Ugh, yeah, I know. Guess I’ll just have to figure out a way to goad them into fights and never throw the first punch.”

“Sweet Pea! You’ll get in trouble for goading! Figure out a way to do it without it sounding like that’s what you’re doing, and then we’ll talk.”

“Oh, fine. I’m just ready to break some noses.”

“Next,” the lady at the desk calls, and the line moves forward. They’re almost at the front, thank god.

“I can’t help but have a feeling you’ll get in trouble for that.”

“Whatever, smartass.” After a moment in which they both laugh, he says, quieter, “By the way, I think you should join the GSA. Tell them you’re an ally if you want. That you’re just supporting those two idiots. Whatever works.”

S he looks up at him, and he looks back, an eyebrow raised in question. Something about the familiarity of it soothes Betty, makes her snuggle in closer. “Alright,” she says, “I’ll do it.”

“Good.”

They’re quiet again until the line moves, and then he lets go, steps away. “I think I’m gonna sign up for basketball,” he tells Toni and Fangs, “And football.”

Toni smiles and says, “Go for it.” But they’re Serpents, and genuine happiness for each other isn’t supposed to be expressed, an unwritten law that all of the younger members seem to have issues following. Toni is better than most, though, as evidenced by her next line: “It’ll keep you busy, and we’re all sick of seeing your ugly face so much.”

“You weren’t saying that last week,” he teases, not very upset at all.

“If by last week you mean fifth grade, when I had a crush on you for all of three seconds, then sure. This crazy thing has happened since then, though, can you guess what it is?”

Fangs, amused and smiling wickedly, asks, “Puberty?”

“Actually, yes! But what I was going for was, I got new glasses and saw the truth.”

“That you’re a nerd? Wow, good job,” Sweet Pea laughs.

“ _ No _ , that you’re not that cute.”

“Tell that to Violet.”

“She only thought you were cute ‘cause you’d go down on her,” Toni exclaims, evidently fed up with Sweet Pea’s flippant attitude. 

Everyone in the whole gym, it seems, turns to look at them, shocked or amused or curious. Toni flushes under the attention, though it’s not very noticeable with her skin tone, as does Betty, on whom blushes are ten times more obvious (ugh), but they all laugh, too. A little embarrassment is always a good reason to laugh.

“Sorry,” Toni offers, glancing at all the staffers who are glaring at her. 

Betty can’t help but giggle at that, though she does wonder how the rest of the day is going to go. She’s already hit highs and lows  this morning, and this is definitely a high.

The line moves forward, and Betty finds herself being issued a school email. The lady helping set them up is stoic, and keeps glancing at Betty’s leather. 

She sighs, annoyed all over again at this stupid school and everyone in it.  _ Be positive, _ she reminds herself.  _ Don’t let yourself get down. _

The lady finishes with her quickly, moving onto Sweet Pea, who she seems even more frightened of. Fangs and Toni whisper in Betty’s ear all the ways the lady’s eyebrows are busted.

However her day goes, as long as her friends are by her side, she knows she’ll be having fun, at the very least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we all know what I was thinking when I said "Finally, some good food" but just in case: 
> 
> Bubbles looks like this: 
> 
> Also please comment I'll love you forever


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty and Jughead actually meet this time!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU MARI for the beta <33333
> 
> There is mention of a character being attacked/raped, though it is in no way graphic and the character is not a main one. This is gonna be a theme in the rest of the fic, though it'll never get _too_ graphic.
> 
> Also, this chapter is slightly NSFW at the very end.

The Blue & Gold office is just like any other classroom at Riverdale High, with tables for students to work at, and a desk for the teacher or group leader. There are several computers set up at the tables, all Apple products, with large screens and all the best applications for making a newspaper. The office doubles as the yearbook room, which has quite a few more students in it than the Blue & Gold, hence why it’s not one of the smaller rooms. On the walls are the design covers of every Riverdale High yearbook, as well as many of the more popular editions of the newspaper, and tons of posters proclaiming grammar rules.

Jughead loves it. It’s like a home away from home, a place where he can plug in his headphones and just write, a place where he can joke with his friends, where he can boss them around. Weatherbee has graciously allowed them to have it up and running without too much teacher intervention, though everything they write has to pass under the nose of at least one of the English teachers. It’s not like Jughead would allow anything inappropriate to be published, anyway; he wants to keep the Blue & Gold up and running for as long as he can, thank you very much.

Not to be emo or anything, but the Blue & Gold is his escape, in every meaning of the word. He can stay as late as he wants, since there’s almost always someone doing something after hours. Josie in particular stays late often, leading to them meeting up and walking home together. It’s in the same direction to a point, before they have to go separate ways, but it’s always nice to talk to Josie. And also make sure she gets at least halfway home safe.

He’s a feminist, and has no doubt that Josie can hold her own. But after Sabrina was attacked last year, he’s been worried about all of his girl friends. God, he can’t imagine what it’s gonna be like for all the Southside girls who don’t have rides. As far as he knows, the buses aren’t driving all the way to the trailer park or any of the neighborhoods down there.

As he steps into the office, he’s still thinking about it. Maybe he can talk to Weatherbee about it, or Mayor McCoy, or even Sheriff Keller. No, what he should do is write about it, get it out there. Make people upset about it.

He sets his stuff down at the desk, taking a seat in the very comfortable rolling chair. His phone is pulled out of his pocket, and then he texts Veronica,  **_Jughead:_ ** _ Hey do you have Sabrina’s number _

**_Jughead:_ ** _ I need it for a piece I’m thinking about writing _

She responds immediately, which is pretty surprising considering he just saw her with her tongue down Archie’s throat.

**_Veronica:_ ** _ I do _

**_Veronica:_ ** _ What piece, exactly? _

**_Jughead:_ ** _ Expose on why the buses aren’t going to the Southside, forcing kids to have to walk all the way home, and putting them at risk of being raped/mugged _

**_Jughead:_ ** _ I can go without a quote or two from her but it would help make a bigger impact _

**_Jughead:_ ** _ And you can say something about it in your column, quote or no quote _

**_Veronica:_ ** _ I’ll ask her _

**_Veronica:_ ** _ Don’t get your hopes up Jug _

**_Jughead:_ ** _ Noted _

He sighs, and sits back. After a moment of staring at his phone as if Veronica’s going to text right back, he pulls his laptop out of his backpack and opens it up. It’s a shitty, old, barely useable model, but all he uses it for is Google Docs and, occasionally, research. It’s too slow for anything else, but he’s attached to it. He’s had it for years now, and it hasn’t died on him yet. Also, to be completely honest, there’s just no money for him to get a new one, so he  _ has  _ to be attached to it.

On a new doc, Jughead writes:

  * Buses ~~not~~ refusing to go down to Southside
  * Students w/out rides forced to walk several miles
  * Sabrina attacked near Fox Forest, attacker never caught
    * If she agrees, ask to use the word rape -- will incite more anger
  * Logical conclusion: students in danger of being attacked
  * School does not care
  * Likely classist prejudice in play
  * CALL TO ACTION



He’s just about to write an actual sentence -- not the first one, because that never comes to him until he’s written some of the body -- when there’s a knock on the open door.

Nobody knocks, especially not anyone who’s part of the newspaper or yearbook,  _ which can only mean one thing, _ he thinks as he looks up,  _ a Southsider actually wants to join the Blue & Gold. _ This whole time, he’s been pretty sure none of the new students were going to want to join. The sister newspaper, the Red & Black, was shut down a long time ago, clearly because no one was interested in it.

Jughead looks up, and comes face to face with a Southsider. The one who called him a creep earlier. She looks just as good as before, if a little more tired. Her ponytail is looser, more hair falling over her shoulder than it did this morning. Her jacket is a little more open, revealing a light gray shirt of some kind underneath it.

He jumps to his feet, realizing he’s just sitting there staring at her. Without thinking, he says, “Um, hi. Sorry.”

She doesn’t react.  _ And no fucking wonder,  _ he thinks, because this is his soulmate and those are the words on her skin. ‘Um, hi. Sorry.’  _ Good job, idiot. She probably hears that every day of her life. _

“I didn’t mean to, uh, stare -- I’m -- “

“Look,” she says, and there’s barely a second for him to take that in before she’s saying, “I was just wondering if there’s a spot open. It said there was but sometimes that’s off, you know?”

“Yeah, there’s a spot.” He’d make one just for her, if he had to.  _ Thank god there’s so little interest in the Blue & Gold, _ he thinks for the very first time in his life.

“Oh, good. I used to write for the Red & Black,” she says, finally stepping further into the room. Behind her, he sees the tall guy she was with this morning standing around, talking to someone Jughead can’t see. 

Jughead’s immediate thought is that the guy is her boyfriend -- why else would he walk her to a club she wants to join?

“Really? I heard it was shut down and just thought….” He stops himself from finishing, seeing the look on her face, full of regret and anger.

“You can’t really run a newspaper that no one reads anyway all by yourself.”

He chuckles a little, though it sounds forced and weird. Jesus, he’s fucking this up. All he needs to do is be normal for once in his life, and he’s failing. “Yeah, I get that. Well, what are you good at?”

She makes a face at him. “I’m good at everything,” she says, then flushes a little, and corrects, “I mean, I can write whatever you need me to. I have experience with all sorts of topics.”

“That’s good. I’d have you take sports, since I’m not very interested in them, but someone’s already got that.”

“So sports are covered, and what else?”

“Well, there’s an advice column and some activities, like word finds, and op-eds but that’s not really  _ taken  _ per-se. We all write those. I cover a lot of the news. Whatever’s left is usually split up, including photos.”

She nods, and asks, “How many people work on it?”

He tries to smile Veronica’s winning smile, but probably fails horrifically. “There’s me, I’m the leader, then Kevin and Veronica.  Technically Ethel. Technically all of the English teachers, too, but it’s like 99% student-run.”

Humming, she looks around the room. When she looks back at him, her green eyes are flashing with something he can’t put his finger on. “And who are you, exactly?”

“What? Oh, I’m Jughead,” he says, and thrusts his hand out. “Jughead Jones.”

“Jughead?” She asks, laughing. Easily, she reaches out and takes his hand in a shake. “Please tell me that’s a nickname.”

“Oh yeah. My real name is way worse, trust me.”  _ Maybe it’s going okay, _ he thinks, wanting nothing more than that, and asks, “And you?”

She squeezes his fingers lightly, and says, “Elizabeth Cooper, but you can call me Betty. No special nicknames here.”

“Betty,” he says, something settling inside him at the way her name tastes on his tongue. “That’s a nice name.”

“Yeah.” She pulls her hand away, tucking it back in the pocket of her leather. “I gotta -- I don’t have a lot of time, so could I get a schedule? Assuming I’m in?”

“Of course you’re in,” he rushes to say. “We need more diversity in our voices. Three Northsiders talking about North- and Southside issues doesn’t make much sense. Um, let me just find the paper.”

Turned away from her, searching through all the different piles of paper just laying around, he feels like he can maybe possibly breathe for a second. He remembers the boy out in the hallway just as he finds the right paper.  T he color of it is a gaudy yellow Veronica insisted would garner more attention, but has yet to do so.

As for the boy… he doesn’t want to think about him.

He turns, and she’s still standing there, staring at him. It’s not obvious, exactly, but he can see that her eyes are, god,  _ hooded _ . Just enough to be seen. Just enough for Jughead, her  _ soulmate _ , to see.

His mouth dries out. “Um. Here ya go,” he says, and hands her the stupid yellow paper. “We’re meeting on Thursday. I’ll see you there?”

She nods, says, “Yes, definitely,” and walks out. Through the door, he sees the tall guy greet her and tuck her into his side.

Jughead sits down in the rolling chair, all the breath knocked out of him.

_ Betty Cooper, _ he thinks.  _ She’s gonna be the death of me. _

* * *

 

“You all set?” Sweet Pea asks. At the sound of his voice, Toni and Fangs, who were sitting on the floor, look over and then get to their feet.

“Yep,” Betty says, finding herself settled in under his arm. “Got a meeting on Thursday.”

“I have Vixens tryouts that day,” Toni says, smiling at her. “Looks like the boys will have to wait on us.”

“ _ For _ us, you mean,” Fangs corrects. “I’m not waiting on you hand and foot. Fuck that.”

“I’m not either!” Sweet Pea assures, shaking his head.  “ That’s a pipe dream.”

“A wet dream, you mean,” Toni corrects, mimicking Fang’s earlier words.

“I knew you were attracted to us,” Fangs says, very smug, and Betty can’t help but laugh.

They’re all still bickering in the car, until Betty yells at them to shut up and Fangs starts bumping Kendrick. Betty, again stuck between her sister and Toni, stares out the front window and thinks over the day.

Bulldogs are terrible (no surprise there). She has until Thursday to hate the Vixens, aka until Toni joins them, and then she’ll be their biggest fan. Northside teachers are ten times better than Southside ones, as are the classes and facilities. Betty peed today, and didn’t even have to squat over the seat for fear of catching an STD. She got a spot on the newspaper. The guy from this morning, who she thought was just another creep, has turned out to be less of one than expected. She knows better than to take one good interaction and decide he’s a saint, but still, her perception of him has turned. Some.

He said her words. They’re common words, far from Joaquin’s, which give him a name  (Kevin)  and place  (Riverdale High School) , but also far from Sweet Pea’s extremely simple and common,  _ No. _

She can still remember the first time someone said the words to her. It was Jupiter, only a few years older than Betty, still in her prime. They’d both been at the lone playground in the Southside, and Betty had been hiding from Polly and her mean friends under the slide. Jupiter had stumbled upon her, trying not to cry, and said, “Um, hi. Sorry. Should I go?”

Betty had jumped for joy, said something in response. The exact wording is lost with time. But Jupiter letting her down is not.

“No, those aren’t my words. I’m sorry.”

Ever since, Betty hasn’t responded to those words. Whoever her soulmate is, it’s up to them, the ball is in their court, whatever saying you wanna use. Jughead Jones said her words, yes, but he didn’t react when she first spoke to him, so they clearly aren’t soulmates.

Well, his eyes did widen.

Betty stiffens. What had she said?  _ Take a picture, creep _ ? Something like that? That would be terrible first words.

He’d reacted to them. But is that because he’s her soulmate, or because the words weren’t exactly nice?

For a second, she’s positive it’s the first option. His behavior makes a lot more sense if he knows they’re soulmates but just hasn’t said it.

But then, Betty thinks about it for a second, and -- he was probably only acting like that because she called him a creep and then tried to flirt with him. Maybe he’s shy. But he’s definitely not her soulmate.

She purges him from her mind, and thank god for that, because Betty can only handle so much stress. Thoughts of Jughead aside, there are two crazy parents to deal with: Alice, who Betty is by no means happy with, and who wants to know every detail of the day down to the exact time Betty picked at her nails; and Hal, who listens to her and Polly talk with a rabid look in his eye, like if she doesn’t  mention even the smallest details (including  the amount of wall covered by posters), he’ll absolutely fly off the handle. She knows he misses the Northside -- he only talks about it every single day -- but she’s never seen him quite like this.

While Polly talks about what’s expected of her as a senior, Betty watches her mom’s face. 

Sometimes, it feels like Alice doesn’t care about them (and more specifically, Betty), just their image. But the way she’s taking in Polly’s every word, a tilt to her head, hands still… she’s invested. She’s listening. She cares. But of course, Alice deflects when Betty asks why she told Sweet Pea to bodyguard her, and instead announces, “Let’s go to the Wyrm tonight! To celebrate our girls’ first day of  _ good schooling _ .”

Hal begs off. He always begs off.

Betty and Polly, however, are dragged there. It’s not kicking and screaming, though Polly attempts to pull the homework card and so does Betty when it seems like Alice might crack. It doesn’t work, though, Alice telling them that they can’t possibly have homework on their first day, and so, within minutes, they’re walking to the Whyte Wyrm.

Joaquin’s aunt’s truck is parked in the lot, soothing Betty. Outside of school, Joaquin is much more social, especially with Fangs, and any friend of Fangs’ is a friend of Joaquin’s. His words.  A t least she won’t be totally alone tonight.

The doors open with all the drama that Alice Cooper feels in her heart. A hush falls over the bar, everyone near the door turning their way.

The first thing Betty notices is that all of her friends are here -- Joaquin, and Fangs next to him, Sweet Pea and Toni at the bar behind them -- and the second thing is that this is clearly an interrogation.

“Mom, what the hell?” She asks, crossing her arms.

“Elizabeth, dear, go sit with your friends.” Alice gives her a look, the Shut Up and Obey Me one, and despite herself, Betty succumbs to it. She doesn’t uncross her arms, but follows her mom’s instructions.

Polly takes the only free seat at the bar, next to Sweet Pea, so Betty stands with Fangs and Joaquin. Fangs whispers, “They’re fucking crazy,” and even though it’s not silent in the bar, his voice carries. Hog Eye, Betty notices, glares at him.

“Actually, boy, we’re not the crazy ones,” he gruffs.

“And what?” Betty scoffs, “We are?”

Nurse, standing at the pool table and leaning heavily on her cue, shakes her head. “Didn’t say that, did we? No, we’re talking about the Northsiders.”

“How’d they treat you?” Hemingway asks, as interested in the answer as he is in every other mystery. Betty can’t help but feel like a bug under a microscope under his attention.

Toni answers for them with a simple, “They treated us like they wanted us to see how great they were.”

“And what does that mean, exactly?” Her grandpa asks, voice carrying from the table where he’s sat.

Joaquin shifts on his feet. “They wanted to show off.”

“The toilets flush,” Sweet Pea adds.

The adults share looks, like they’re planning on razing the Northside down if even one person made one of these kids feel bad. Betty glances at Fangs, who rolls his eyes. They’re both thinking the same thing -- these stupid adults can only show concern through aggression. 

“We don’t care about the toilets,” Tall Boy admonishes.

Alice cuts in, “ _ Actually _ , yes we do. You don’t have any kids who had to hold it all day, Tall Boy.”

Tall Boy doesn’t have any kids, period. Betty’s more thankful for that than she should be, but instinctively, she knows Tall Boy’s children would be bullies. There’s enough of those in the world already.

She continues, “However, he is right that that’s not what we’re interested in. Nix got in a fight?”

Betty doesn’t question how her mom knows. Instead, she says, “Yeah, ‘cause of a Bulldog. But we stepped in. It was fine. He didn’t get hurt too bad.”

“How exactly did you step in,” asks someone.

Sweet Pea says, “We pulled Nix away and made sure the Bulldog couldn’t get at him again.” He sounds proud, and no wonder. Once they’d stepped in this morning, Nix had been bleeding pretty badly from the nose. One of the hits Reggie Fucking Mantle got in burst something in his nose, and she thinks it had actually hurt pretty bad. Nix hadn’t cried or anything, but he’d thanked them for standing with him. “In unity, there is strength.”

That makes the adults happy.

There are more questions of course, and they’re forced to detail their days all over again. Betty doesn’t listen to her friends and sister go over their days, already aware of what happened,  and attempts to just repeat her own day word for word just as she had described it to Alice,  but she does listen when Joaquin takes his turn.

“The assembly was fine for me, I sat with Red and their friends.” Red is a freshman, and Betty wonders briefly why they aren’t here. It’s not like they’re not around the Wyrm every day, anyway. Maybe the adults just didn’t want to antagonize them. “I’m gonna sign up for the GSA,” he says, messing with the hem of his sleeve.

“Fangs, Betts, and I are, too,” Toni says. “So you won’t be alone.”

Joaquin smiles at that, pleased, and then tells everyone about an encounter he stumbled upon in the bathroom. Apparently there are lots of closeted boys at Riverdale High, but not closeted enough to not make out obviously in the handicap stall.

E veryone has a good laugh at that, and Alice decides it’s a good place to stop the inquisition. She collects Betty and Polly, as well as something for dinner for all of them, and they walk back home, swinging the bags of food.

Hal is watching TV when they return, though it gets turned off immediately. It’s his Northside, Stepford manners and upbringing kicking in -- no TV during dinner. Said dinner is unremarkable, with Alice commandeering the conversation and relaying information to Hal. Polly eats as quickly as she can before retreating to her room.

For the next few hours, Betty does homework (because, yes, they have it on their first day, and they actually have a lot), and texts her friends. Fangs doesn’t say much, apparently too busy with Joaquin doing something, but Toni and Sweet Pea have Betty stifling laughs and wiping away tears all night.

By the time everyone goes to bed officially, Betty is wide awake. Jughead is back in her thoughts -- she doesn’t like the way he looks at her. It makes her skin tingle, like there’s pent up electricity waiting to be released. Her attempts to convince herself he’s not that cute fall through when she recalls his smile.

_ Ugh. Stop it, Betty. _

She rolls over.

It’s cold again, so Betty has both of her blankets piled onto her. The trailer is silent, the only sound coming from Grandpa Cooper’s old clock on the wall. The stray cats, Pickle, Mustard, and Cool Ranch Dorito (Dorito for short), are meowing outside, peddling for food. She’s so used to their noise though that it hardly registers.

For long minutes, she breathes and listens to the cats, eyes closed. 

It doesn’t work.

_ Fuck it, _ she thinks, and slips a hand into her pajama shorts. She’s always sleepy after a quick orgasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only got one comment on the last chapter so I'm gonna say again PLEASE COMMENT I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead does some research. Betty meets Veronica and Kevin. Toni meets Cheryl and doesn't want to talk about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by my amazing wife Mari, and dedicated to my fellow Meme Minors though I'm pretty sure none of them read this fic but Mari *shrug*
> 
> Many apologies to Freddie Mercury and Mary Austin, who play a very small role in this chapter, but they are/were real people. This is a fictional representation of their relationship.
> 
> Warning for a SMALL MENTION of spousal/partner rape in the context of research (as in, it does not happen to anyone in the story and is mentioned only as a fact).

Late Wednesday night, Jughead is still awake.

He’s only been home an hour or so, having successfully managed to slip past FP and get to his room. The door is locked, a chair pushed under the handle. Before he leaves in the morning, he’ll unlock it and move the chair, but for now, his only plan of escape, should he need one, is the window. There’s nothing in front of it that could hinder or slow him down, if he goes out that way.

The rest of the floor is messy with clothes and papers and odd bits of trash. He has a desk but rarely uses it, instead preferring to hole up in the corner of his bed with his laptop. Headphones, the kind that’ll mute the apocalypse, blare music in his ears. There are no band posters on the wall, though, just shelves for his books. A hamper sits in front of the desk, full of clothes he needs to wash.

But his bedroom and his stuff aren’t what’s important here. What’s important is why he’s up so late -- he’s doing research.

As far as he knows, it’s not common to meet your soulmate and just… not tell them. Even for people with extremely simple or common words. There are lots of situations played out in the media where two soulmates meet, and one of them is already in a committed relationship. Jughead hates that trope, and every movie and show it’s in, but it’s a similar situation that he can apply his to. Those people always find out, though, and then deal with being just friends or never seeing each other again. (They always end up together, except in that one movie from the 1970s where two guys are ‘mates, and there’s so much sexual tension it makes Jughead sick.) There are whole websites devoted to helping people talk to their soulmate.

He peruses one but it doesn’t help him at all.  _ Ask your soulmate what they expect from this relationship. Ask your soulmate what they are comfortable with. Ask your soulmate, _ blah blah blah. Jughead can’t ask Betty anything without first telling her,  _ oh you said my words. Hahaha I’ve been hating myself for my whole life, in part because you called me a creep, but I can get over that. Are you dating that guy? What do you want from me? From us? _ Ha ha ha.

He googles, **how do i tell my soulmate they said my words** . The only hits are for more of those websites.

About to tear his hair out in frustration, he goes to the wikipedia page.

J ughead is one of those weird people who reads every word of a wiki page, no matter how long it is. Somehow, he always manages to retain all of it, too.

That’s to say, he reads the wiki page and memorizes random statistics and facts.

He already knows that soulmates are pretty much guaranteed to meet in their lifetimes -- the only cases of people not meeting their soulmates are people who die suddenly or at a young age, or people who simply don’t have a soulmate at all, as rare as they are. Most people meet theirs before the age of 50, and many end up being high school or college sweethearts. There are tons of cases of  _ elementary school _ sweethearts. All of this is standard for the soulmate part of the curriculum he and his peers were taught about at increasing levels until fifth grade, when it was taught alongside puberty and sex and all that stuff. Jughead can barely stand to think about a lot of it sometimes, but even he can admit that sex-ed here in Riverdale is absolute garbage.

(Kevin, as a pimply and overweight twelve-year-old, had asked Jughead over to his house, and once safely locked in his room, aka away from his dad’s prying eyes, he’d broken down. In hysterics, he’d told Jughead that he didn’t want to date and have sex with  _ girls _ ; he wanted to date and have sex with  _ boys _ , and that there was no one else to talk to about it except him. At the time, they weren’t exactly friends with Cheryl or Josie, and Archie was for sure going to flounder trying to help Kevin.

“Calm down, calm down,” he’d said, “We can research. All we have to do is research. You’re not weird, Kev, you’re just a different kind of normal.”

He’d reword that, in retrospect, but it thankfully had worked well enough back then that Kevin had calmed down. Research led them to the conclusion that Kevin was gay, and that, with lots of lube, sex could be achieved.)

Of course, he reads the parts about sex. Lots of people claim arousal and other similar feelings can pass through and influence ‘mates, which unfortunately sometimes leads to spousal or partner rapes (though there are no stats for this; Jughead rolls his eyes at that, because  _ of course _ there aren’t any stats). It usually starts after meeting, intensifying after “prolonged skin contact” or kissing. It’s not specified how much kissing, but Jughead assumes the more people kiss, the more it builds between the two people. He thinks back to all the times he’s felt things he usually doesn’t feel in the past few days and, blushing hot, assumes that Betty has been feeling those same things.

Back to more appropriate facts -- most soulmates are similar in age, with days or weeks or months being the common separations. Jughead was born with his words, so Betty must be older, but how much older? 

Another thing is that soulmates pretty much  _ have  _ to come from different backgrounds. Veronica and Archie’s are about as close as they can get, with the main difference being the place and money situation. Josie and Hudson are more closely aligned with society’s view of different -- Josie has two successful parents and comes from a small town, while Hudson has less successful parents and comes from New York City. Jughead obviously doesn’t know anything about Betty’s background, but she comes from the Southside. He’s got roots there, having been born and raised there for the first four years of his life. FP was a Serpent, and a ride or die one, too. Does living on the Northside but feeling completely and totally detached from it count as enough for fate to claim they’re different?

Jughead doesn’t want to think about it. All his stupid brain can tell him is that surely, it’s not different enough, and surely, fate made a mistake, and surely, someone else is gonna come around and ask him,  _ Why don’t you take a picture, creep? _

He knows it’s illogical. He does. But that doesn’t change the paths his mind takes.

The emotionless facts help him steer clear of those thoughts.

Relationships aren’t guaranteed to be sexual or romantic. There are lots of people out there who don’t need that in a partner -- they just want a friend. The wiki page cites Freddie Mercury and Mary Austin, soulmates who tried to have that “normal” relationship and ended up as the best of friends, instead. Plus, the more aro and/or ace people are studied, the more the world learns about that aspect of soulmates. Jughead has always thought he needs a friend and that’s it. But he can certainly imagine kissing up Betty’s throat, hearing the soft noises she makes, and --

LGBTQ+ soulmates. They’re fascinating, and very under studied.  S hockingly enough, centuries of being told same-sex soulmates were meant to be just friends has lead to almost a quarter more same-sex soulmate pairs than hetero pairs staying in the friend zone. It’s mainly because of being closeted, wiki tells him, but he isn’t sure if he believes it. 

There’s more domestic abuse than in hetero pairs according to one study from the height of the AIDS epidemic, which doesn’t reek of bias at all. Jughead looks into how he can debunk that one, and makes a bookmark of it.

That’s about all he can take for the night, so he sets his laptop on the floor, too lazy to put on the desk where it belongs. That decision has nothing at all to do with the fact that it’s nearly 4:30 in the morning, and he has to be at school by 8:15 am.

He gets there at 8:13 am, narrowly making it to homeroom, where he promptly passes out. Three hours of sleep is clearly not enough. On his way to first hour, he plans on taking a nap on the couch in the lounge during his free period, and it’s all he thinks about until the bell rings an hour and a half later. Not even food can break through his thoughts.

Once he gets to the lounge, he tucks himself into the side, his bag being set securely between him and the arm of the couch. He’ll wake up if someone tries to take it. Head resting in his palm, he ignores his friends coming in around him, closes his eyes, and tries to shut off his brain. Except that it doesn’t work and never has, so of course, he thinks,  _ I need to call Jellybean. I need to call her right now. _ His last call and voicemail have gone unacknowledged.

Jughead blinks his eyes open, grumbling internally about how they shouldn’t hurt when there’s no gunk poking at the corners. To make matters worse, the first face he sees is Reggie’s, sitting on the arm of the chair. Josie’s the one in the chair, and they’re both talking to Archie and Veronica, the latter of whom has seemingly taken Jughead’s nap as her cue to sit in Archie’s actual lap. It’s Reggie that catches his attention the most, though, because he’s right there in his line of sight, with a big, black eye.  _ Well, _ Jughead thinks,  _ his ISS didn’t last long. _

But there’s more important things to get to, namely calling his sister again. He doesn’t care if she’ll be at school, or  if  Gladys  is  at work. He’s calling, and he’s calling right now.

His phone is hidden somewhere in the depths of his bag, and he starts rummaging immediately. The lack of sleep has bred urgency in him, his stupid brain telling him if he doesn’t call right now, he’ll never get to talk to Jellybean ever again, and where will he be in fifty years if he can’t talk to Jellybean, and will he ever feel awake again?

Stupidly, he makes congratulatory noises when he finally grabs it, catching his friends’ (and Reggie’s) attention.

“You okay?” Josie asks, looking unbearably amused.

“Yeah, m’good,” he mumbles, tapping until he gets to the phone app. The last call is a missed one from  **Dad (RIP)** , made at 6:01 pm on Tuesday night. The one right under that is his outgoing call to  **Egg Donor/JB** . He clicks on it and brings the phone up to his ear, fully expecting it to ring and ring.

“Who’re you calling?” Reggie asks, adjusting his stance on the chair and sending a distinctly mocking look Jughead’s way.

“My mom. You guys can keep talking, she’s not gonna pick up.” Sure enough, the leave-a-message message plays, and Jughead says, suddenly furious, “Hey, Mom. Just want to let you know that I’m not gonna stop calling you until I get to talk to JB for longer than twenty minutes. If you could stop being a -- I mean, if you could focus on your children for one second, that’d be awesome, thanks. Oh, by the way, this is your son.”

When he pulls the phone away, he finds that all of his friends (and Reggie) are staring at him.

“What?” He demands. Their pity and unsolicited interest is practically palpable.

“Nothing,” Veronica says, suddenly all smiles. “I asked Sabrina if she’d be willing to talk to you, by the way. She said yes, just to talk, okay? It’s not a guarantee she’ll give quotes. I’ll text you her number now.” She pulls out her own phone, taps a couple times, and then Jughead’s own cell is buzzing.

“Thanks,” he mutters, and immediately starts composing a text that’ll hopefully get her to agree to giving quotes.

* * *

Cheerleading tryouts are moved to lunch time  at the very last minute (apparently because of sudden after school plans for the leader) , so on Thursday, Betty spends lunch sitting in the bleachers with Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Joaquin, while Toni is on the gym floor. She’s wearing the unofficially official practice uniform, which Fangs notes gleefully makes her look “banging”. Betty can’t help but agree.

The other girls look good, too, but Betty keeps her eyes off them. She’s here for Toni and not for ogling, though it’s not just Fangs partaking in it. Joaquin is gay, but Sweet Pea is as straight as they come. She looks at where his eyes are pointing, and finds one of the most beautiful girls in the school doing some sort of standing toe touches. She’s facing away from them.

Betty hates to objectify and be objectified. Already, Bulldogs have hit on her, one even saying it’d be fun to “try out trailer park trash”.  I t had taken everything in Betty to keep Toni from ripping his dick off. It’s not like she doesn’t want her to, she just doesn’t want her to do it on school grounds. No reason to get suspended this early.

Anyway, the point is, she doesn’t want to objectify this girl. But even she has to admit, the girl’s got a nice butt.

Sweet Pea says, “I’m gonna have to get her number.”

“Not before I do,” Fangs immediately challenges.

Joaquin cuts in, “I think she’s ‘mated already. You’re both too late.”

“Fuck!” Sweet Pea complains under his breath, and tears his eyes away.

They watch as Cheryl Blossom, already introduced to them through gossip as Cherry Bombshell, saunters in and immediately starts barking orders.

“Listen up losers, I’m Cheryl Blossom and I’m the HBIC here. In case you don’t know, that means Head Bitch in Charge.” She pronounces every word, every syllable, like it’s the most important thing she’s ever said. “You’re all here to audition for the Vixens, and I expect nothing but your very best. I’m talking 110% at the least. Now, returning Vixens are going to go first.” Her eyes track over to Toni and she asks, disdain obvious, “I assume you're the girl I was informed to give a spot to no matter what.”

Toni doesn’t freeze. She doesn’t react at all, except to say, as smugly and coolly as ever, “You know it, Cherry Bombshell.”

Betty, however, does react at these words. She inhales sharply, a hand coming up to her mouth. At her side, Sweet Pea sits up quickly, and Fangs’ mouth drops open. Joaquin and all the rest of the girls in the gym don’t have a clue what’s going on.

Cheryl’s smile turns even more icy than before, completely dropping after a moment into a thin, angry line. “Hmm. I’ll be talking to you afterwards. I don’t take attitude,” she snaps. Calmer, she says, “But you didn’t know that, so I’ll give you a free pass.  _ One _ . And now all of you know, so if anyone dares talk back to me, you’ll simply be kicked off the team. Are we clear?”

The girls chorus ‘yes’es, but Betty barely pays any attention to them. Instead, she watches Toni’s face. It’s clear as day that she’s upset at the way that was handled, in the way her eyebrows draw together and her cheek curves inward, a sure sign of her biting the skin of it. Betty digs her nails into her palms; Toni bites the inside of her cheek raw. Later on, she’s going to find time to make sure it’s not too bad.

One of the first girls to go is the pretty one, who Cheryl calls Veronica Lodge. Jughead had said that name, hadn’t he? She can’t remember, but either way, it’s familiar \-- and in fact, so is her face. Betty thinks she’s the girl who was at the welcome desk, but doesn’t voice the thought . She and Sweet Pea watch as Veronica Lodge dances to trap music. Cheryl isn’t wowed, just saying, “You’re safe,” before moving on.

E very other girl goes before Toni. Some of them are deemed safe like Veronica, others “acceptable”, and some “best left forgotten”. Betty doesn’t see anything wrong with most of the routines, though she can understand why Cheryl didn’t like some of them. Cheryl, however, finds something to nitpick at in  _ all  _ of the routines except for Veronica’s, which Betty feels is telling. Veronica waits around, while the other girls leave as soon as their judgement is done.

Through all of it, Joaquin and Fangs occasionally talk. Mostly, they’re silent, probably because Joaquin realizes Fangs wants to watch the dancing more than he wants to talk about asshole teachers. Sweet Pea doesn’t talk at all, but does check his phone every once in a while. By the way his jaw is clenched, Betty assumes it’s his dad texting him.

When Toni takes her turn, she dances perfectly in time with the music. Every movement is exactly what it needs to be, whether that be sharp or flowing. Her face is blank, something more than confidence making it that way. Probably multiple somethings.

Once it’s over, she stands there, panting just a little. None of the other girls had said anything, but she does. “What’s your verdict, HBIC?”

Cheryl rolls her eyes, setting her clipboard down on the empty folding chair next to her. “Acceptable,” she says through her teeth , getting to her feet  and making her way over . “ _ Barely _ .”

“I think we both know I did better than a lot of the other girls did today,” Toni counters, meeting Cheryl halfway.

Whatever’s said next is said too quietly for Betty or the boys to hear. It takes a little while to be said, and it seems like most of it is said by Cheryl. Toni’s turned away from them, so they can’t see how she contributes.

Once Cheryl turns and walks away, Toni mimics her and stalks to her bag. She scoops it up and waits at the bottom, tapping her foot (a gesture Betty’s never seen her make) impatiently. Betty gets down first, and asks, “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Toni says, clipped.

“But -- “ Fangs starts.

“Code Dark!” Toni barks, sounding a lot like her soulmate, and then stomps out of the gym, her friends scrambling behind her.

By the time the last bell of the day rings, Betty’s thought of just about every possibility of what could’ve happened. She doesn’t like to speculate, but…. Oh, who is she kidding? She loves to speculate and make guesses and investigate. It’s only the part about Toni being hurt somehow, enough to invoke Code Dark (a steel, unbreakable version of  _ I don’t want to talk about it _ ), that she doesn’t like.

Code Dark is by far one of the more serious codes. Just saying “I don't want to talk about it” is their way of saying that they will, eventually, say something, or that they can be broken down into speaking. Code Dark is basically a warning saying,  _ don’t even try _ . No matter how much you want to, no matter how important it is. And Betty is going to respect it.

So, they don’t talk about it when Sweet Pea walks her to the Blue & Gold. He’s going to go back to the gym to play some basketball with Fangs instead of just waiting around here, and that’s what they talk about. He tries to get her to bet on him winning against Fangs in a game of Horse, but Betty says what she always says -- “I don’t want to come between my friends.”

Sweet Pea, as per usual, says, “That what she said.”

Betty punches his arm.

In front of the door, Sweet Pea hugs her, using it as a pretence to whisper in her ear, “I’m gonna make sure Toni’s okay, don’t worry.”

She kisses his cheek, murmuring, “Get her to agree to a movie night at the Twilight.”

He pulls away, nodding. “Well, have fun. Don’t be too good.”

“For a Northsider? Never,” she teases back.

“Looks like three,” he corrects, and then gently nudges her towards the door. “Just text me when you’re done.”

“Will do,” she says, and then he’s walking away. Betty watches, using it as an excuse to build up some courage. Three Northsiders. Talk about walking into the lion’s den, even if she sort of already knows Jughead.

She turns, and walks in. Jughead is at the same desk as last time, and the other two are a guy she’s seen in the halls, and none other than Veronica Lodge. 

“Betty, come in,” Jughead says brightly. The bags under his eyes are ten times darker than the last time she saw him.  S omething deep inside her wonders with concern,  _ Is he okay? _ He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, which does nothing but make it seem like he’s not.

For lack of anything else to do, and an abundance of uncomfortable feelings (namely, why does she care about this Northsider?), she crosses her arms. Sitting at a desk with her feet up in a chair is Veronica Lodge, while Kevin, if she remembers correctly, is leaning against the counter. Veronica’s makeup has clearly been touched up, her hair fixed, and she’s wearing very nice clothes. Like, Betty feels too poor to even look at them, nice. Her  shirt is off both shoulders, revealing a delicate collarbone, and goes down past her elbows. It’s a beautiful light blue with yellow and green floral patterns on it. The slightest hint of her midriff is bare, and then there’s her  skirt  \-- a black sequined one that doesn’t get within three inches of her knees. Her  shoes  are Converse, a familiar sight at least, but they look brand new and have little hearts on the sides. Altogether impractical for school, but Betty’s certain she would’ve noticed the sequins earlier. Maybe this is some other outfit, then, and not the one she had worn all day.

The pit in her stomach is as good an excuse as any to look away from Veronica, which leads her to Kevin. He looks significantly less extravagant, wearing dark chinos and a comfortable looking sweater over an untucked button up. Jughead…. Well, he looks the same. Maybe his t-shirt is different, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he said, ‘ _ I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes. _ ’

“That’s Kevin, and that’s Veronica,” Jughead says, gesturing to them. “Kev, V, this is Betty. Our new member.”

“Hi,” she says belatedly, realizing she’s just staring at them.

“Hey.” Veronica pops a bubble in her gum just to solidify in Betty’s mind that she’s way out of Betty’s league. In a friend way, of course.

Kevin smiles, and greets, “Hi there.” Somehow, it’s not creepy.

Betty opens her mouth to say something, not really sure what, but Veronica interrupts by setting her feet down on the floor. The slap of it makes Betty flinch, but when she looks up at Veronica’s face, the other girl is smiling. It’s a friendly, soft one -- no teeth. As she stands, she says, excitement clear as day in her voice, “I actually can’t stay long, but Juggiekins told me about there being a new member, and I just couldn’t miss meeting you!”

Betty drops her arms, trying to smile the same way Veronica is. She scrambles for something to say, scrapping several things before asking, “Uh, I was actually wondering -- how many times can you skip before you get kicked off?”

Jughead clears his throat. “Technically, it’s four times if there’s not a good reason. All clubs are like that here.”

“Good reasons can be just about anything, though,” Kevin adds. The way he says it implies that Veronica takes advantage of it being anything. Or that Jughead is soft on Veronica and not him. Despite what everyone says, the Northsiders aren’t easy to read at all. 

“What’s yours?” She asks Veronica.

Sheepishly, she tells them, “Friend emergency. Like, a big one. Defcon level five important. In fact, I need to go before she calls again.” Veronica grabs her purse, and heads towards the door. To Kevin and Jughead, Veronica says, “I don’t know if Cher will want you boys around, so if you get something afterwards, avoid Pop’s.” Then, to them all, she waves, calls out, “Bye!”, and is gone.

Inexplicably, Betty feels like she’s just survived a hurricane.

Jughead seems eager to move on. He directs her to sit where Veronica had been, and then he and Kevin go digging  f or some book Kevin says “will teach you literally everything you need to know.”

For the next hour, she looks over the book, listens as they explain the mechanics and how things work, and watches them argue briefly over which edition did better.

Right before she leaves, Jughead says, “Here, I have an assignment for you. It’s not due  to print  for a while, not until next Friday, so you have time to think about it and stuff. But like Kev said, I’ll need it by Wednesday at the latest.”

He hands her a post-it note. It’s hilariously unprofessional, but she’s seeing that  a lot of things  about the Blue & Gold aren’t. On it, in stiff but familiar handwriting, are the words: the Southside Integration from the POV of a Southsider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Veronica's clothes can be found here (and if they look ugly together my bad, I'm not very fashion forward so please tell me and I'll change it lmao): [shirt](https://images.neimanmarcus.com/ca/1/product_assets/T/W/W/A/3/NMTWWA3_mu.jpg), [skirt](https://images.neimanmarcus.com/ca/2/product_assets/T/W/H/4/Q/NMTWH4Q_mu.jpg), [shoes](https://n.nordstrommedia.com/ImageGallery/store/product/Zoom/8/_10797888.jpg?crop=pad&pad_color=FFF&format=jpeg&trim=color&trimcolor=FFF&w=780&h=838)
> 
> I'd like to add that polyamorous people do exist in this universe as I imagine they do in all universes, and Jughead does read about people with multiple 'mates/marks, but because he himself only has the one, the information on it isn't relevant to him. Really all of the information he reads about can be applied to polyamorous people with little to no change depending on the number of soulmates a person has. Similar to how there has been only one movie about gay soulmates (a sort of Brokeback Mountain, if you will), at this point in this AU, there have been no movies about poly soulmates, though they will be made and then become more common alongside other LGBT-type movies (such as Moonlight) as time passes.
> 
> Also, thank you for all the comments on the last chapter! I'm gonna try to get to them all tonight but if I don't, I'll get to them eventually. 
> 
> Please comment on this chapter too! I'll love you forever <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Significantly less bughead but more squad goals and also some Alice and backstory!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to add that in the previous chapter, it's mentioned Cheryl already has plans, which were in fact to go to Pop's with Veronica after Veronica got her assignment from Jughead, however once she met Toni they decided to go immediately after school. Just assume Jughead texts Veronica her assignment or something.
> 
> Warning for minor homophobia

Kevin starts packing up the second Betty calls someone named Sweet Pea, saying she’s done and is gonna meet him in the gym. Jughead instantly connects the dots -- Sweet Pea is her boyfriend, who dropped her off again, but this time with added PDA and a split-second glare that could rival old Mrs. Grundy’s.

Once Betty’s gone, ponytail swinging as she walks out of sight, Kevin says, “Let’s go to Pop’s.”

“Didn’t Veronica say not to?”

“She texted me and said the coast is clear but not to ask.”

Groaning, Jughead agrees to going, and packs up his own stuff. It doesn’t take long, and soon enough, he and Kevin are walking down the hall towards Kevin’s Bronco. Jughead usually walks to school, so he’s not leaving anything behind in the lot.

“So, Betty’s nice,” Kevin says once they’re on the road. “Think she’ll stick around?”

“Yeah, I do. She told me she ran the Red & Black for a while, so she’s got to have some skill.”

“Mm, yeah. I heard it was shut down?”

“She didn’t say much about that.” And far be it from him to push her to talk about things. Also it’s not like there’s been a chance to. He sighs and pushes a hand through his hair, immediately adjusting his beanie after. “Did Veronica say anything about her?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, and gestures for Jughead to grab his phone. “You can look; if I just paraphrase it, it won’t give it justice.”

Kevin’s passcode is 1159, and Jughead only knows that because Kevin is his second best friend. Archie is first, with their shared years and living on the same street for thirteen years and all. After that is Kevin, who Jughead met during recess one day in first grade and has been a confidante ever since. He knows Kevin feels a little betrayed for not being told about Jughead’s sexual questioning, but he’s hoping they can hash it out over milkshakes tonight. Or he had been, until Veronica basically invited them to help her out with Cheryl. It’ll have to wait another day, probably.

Jughead reads Veronica’s text out loud. **_Veronica:_** _BTW pls tell Juggie that I think Betty is adorable. I’m really digging the greaser vibe. It looks better on her than any other serpent I’ve seen. With a little work she could be on my level. I’m gonna friend her so hard she won’t know what hit her_

“She  _ was  _ cute,”  K evin agrees. “Thank god she didn’t see the way you were looking at her.”

“What?” Jughead says, way too loud. “I wasn’t -- I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just looking at her like how I look at you or Ronnie or anyone.”

Kevin glances over just to make sure Jughead sees him raise an eyebrow. “You don’t look at us like you wanna latch on and never let go.”

_ Fuck, _ Jughead thinks, because he sorta was entertaining what it would be like to be able to hug her the way Sweet Pea or whatever did. He and Betty are of similar height and it would be a lot easier. Plus, she looks…  _ soft _ . Huggable. He bites his tongue to stop that train of thought, and denies, “I wasn’t -- “

“ _ Jug _ , it’s okay. I know you’re demi, so you don’t really have crushes?” At Jughead’s nod, he continues, “Okay, yeah, so I know you don’t have crushes but it’s okay to have one, especially on a girl like Betty Cooper. Labels change all the time -- “

“Kevin,” Jughead says,  _ drop it. Just let it go. I’m not ready to tell you. I want to stop talking about this before my skin actually starts crawling. _ “Um. How -- how do I look at you and Veronica? For comparison’s sake.”

Kevin sighs and taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “For the record, you are so obvious right now. But I’ll allow this change in subject as long as I’m promised a talk about it at some point.”

“Of course,” Jughead agrees immediately, sighing in relief. “I’ll come right to you... when I’m ready to talk.”

“Good. Now, you look at Veronica a very specific way, and it’s actually really cute. We all sorta indulge her and her zany rich girl ways, but you  _ really  _ do. Like, I’ve overheard Archie talking about it with Ronnie before. He shouldn’t worry though, I mean obviously she’s not gonna leave him, plus there’s only like,  _ sibling  _ love between you two. As for me, it’s a little harder for me to tell, but I think you look at me like you think I’m your brother, or something.” His eyes widen, and he looks over at Jughead, who’s sitting there trying not to reel at hearing Kevin’s thoughts about him. “Would you say you feel protective of us?”

“Uh, yes?”

“That explains a lot.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Now, do me! How do I look at you and Veronica?”

Jughead has to think about that for a moment. He’ll be the first to admit he doesn’t pay a lot of attention to things like that. It’s all a little too emotional for him. But sometimes, he finds himself watching his friends’ faces, purely for writing purposes of course. It’s good to study people so real life attributes can be applied to fictional characters.

Kevin looks at their friends like he simultaneously feels a million miles away and as close as he’s ever been. He’ll be sitting there laughing, having a good time, and Jughead will watch as he looks out a window or something, a terrible longing in his eyes. For a long time, Jughead thought it was loneliness caused by being the only out gay boy in Riverdale High. Sometimes, he’s positive it is that. But other times, when Jughead is feeling particularly introspective and sad and dumb, he thinks it’s because Kevin feels separate from them. He’s gay, and his dad is the Sheriff, and everyone comes to him with their bullshit but rarely hears him out about his. Jughead tries his best to let Kevin vent to him, but no one is meant to be another person’s main emotional dumping ground. 

He can’t say any of that. Not here, not in a car on their way to Pop’s where Cheryl is in crisis mode, not when Jughead feels like he’s on a knife edge, about to slip into his own breakdown. So he just says, “Like Veronica annoys you but you love her too much to say anything.”

“And what about you?” Kevin asks, doing a bad job of masking his disappointment in Jughead’s answer.

_ Like I’m a buoy in the middle of the ocean, and you’re drowning. _ “You look at me like we’re on the Office and I’m the only one who understands when the others act dumb.”

That makes him laugh, thank god, and then they’re pulling into Pop’s parking lot.  J ughead hops out and doesn’t wait for Kevin before going in, realizing he’s starving and has been all day. When he steps in, the din quiets like it always does when the door opens, and quickly goes back to what it was. Veronica catches his eye, and gestures at him to come sit. He nods, but goes to the bar instead, leaning over an empty chair and resting his foot on the metal footrest thing. Kevin comes in right after, but actually does go and sit with the girls.

“Pop! How ya doing tonight?”

“I’m doing good, Jug, how about you?”

“Living the dream,” he says in his most sarcastic voice. Pop’s smile turns empathetic. “Anyway, what’d Ronnie and Cheryl get?”

“Order of fries each, and two strawberry milkshakes. You want your usual? And Kevin’s?”

“Yes sir, please,” Jughead says, and once that’s settled, he slaps the counter and goes towards his friends. Kevin’s sitting next to Veronica, so Jughead slides in next to Cheryl, making sure to leave space. They all learned the hard way that Cheryl doesn’t like to be touched when she’s angry a few years ago when Archie attempted to put his arm on the seat behind them and got elbowed in the ribs so bad, it bruised black.

“So, Jug,” Veronica starts, “What happened after I left? Kevin didn’t give me many details.”

“Nothing, really? We just told her the basics and gave her the book, and an assignment.”

“Already? What is it?”

“Southsider’s opinion of the Integration,” Kevin says, using the word the Register had given the merging of the two schools. “Op-ed, 300 word minimum ‘cause Jughead here is evil.”

“I’m not evil,” he scoffs. “If I was, I would’ve said 500 minimum and also, sneak in a reference to the Bee movie script somehow.”

Which is something he has done before, specifically for the April Fool’s day edition last year. Jughead’s still got the clipping somewhere under his bed.

He reaches out to grab one of Cheryl’s fries, which look untouched (a crime, if you ask him), but she immediately slaps his hand away. Where she had been just staring at the sign on the wall, she’s now glaring at him, full of life. “Go away, you leech! These are mine!”

“You weren’t eating them,” he defends, but keeps his hands to himself.

“And you think that gives you any right to have them?” She brings her fist down on the table, making them all jump along with the plates and everything. “Men, I swear! Can’t you go colonize and drag your disgusting misogyny somewhere else?!” Breathing heavily, Cheryl suddenly groans and snaps, “Move!”

Jughead nearly falls trying to get out of the booth, making way for her to get out and practically teleport to the bathroom.

Everyone’s staring. There’s a sharp prickle of intense discomfort in Jughead’s spine, yet still he says, “Nothing to see here, guys. Go back to your dinners.”

Veronica’s phone buzzes as he sits back down. She reads it, and sighs, “Cheryl says to stay out here.”

“Um. Is she okay? Should you be ignoring her and helping her in there?” Kevin asks, sharing a wide-eyed look with Jughead.

“She’s fine. I think. I’ve been sitting here enduring her Killer Queen attitude for a while now, so I sorta want a break anyway.”

“Okay,” Kevin and Jughead say at the same time.

“What  _ can  _ we know about what’s going on?” Jughead asks.

Veronica hums, thinking about it. “Well, her parents are acting batshit again. And Jason’s doing something that’s annoying Cher. And there’s another thing that’s the biggest issue, but I was sworn to secrecy over it.”

Kevin asks something, but Jughead doesn’t listen. Pop comes  to the table  with their food, and Jughead’s vision tunnels. He cares about Cheryl and what’s going on with her, but seriously, he hasn’t eaten since his apple near the middle of the B&G meeting, and he’s this close to vore. Okay, not really, but he loves to say that when Archie’s around to hear, because he always believes it.

Pop makes small talk, or maybe he asks about Cheryl. Jughead pops open his burgers and douses them in ketchup and mustard. His fries are covered in salt, more ketchup thrown on the side. The extra large chocolate milkshake is sat within an easy reach. He thinks he makes a noise when he bites into the first of the two burgers, purely because of the judgy looks Veronica and Kevin give him.

“What?” He asks, muffled. As soon as he’s swallowed that bit, he takes a long sip of his milkshake. God, it’s good.

“I know you’re not interested in sex or whatever, but, and I’m just saying, if you made those noises for a porn site, you’d rake in the money,” Veronica says bluntly. Kevin chokes on his grilled cheese. “Speaking of, Betty -- “

Cheryl arrives next to the table like a spectre. She sits on the very edge of the seat, clearly not wanting to make any contact with Jughead at all. He would be offended, if not for many things but most importantly that she takes a bite out of a fry.

“Betty?” She asks, disdain in her tone. A quick trip to the bathroom has erased all of the earlier distress. “Who’s that?”

“Our newest recruit to the school paper. Betty Cooper,” Kevin supplies happily, obviously glad Cheryl’s back to normal, no matter how temporary that is.

Betty Cooper. A rush of feelings hits Jughead, mainly something he would never ever call despair -- ever. She has a boyfriend. A very tall, very mean looking one, who probably does not like him just on principle. Jughead has always told himself he’d never come between his soulmate and their SO if they had one when they met. Now that he’s met his, though, now that he’s met Betty Cooper -- 

“Cooper?” Cheryl demands. “As in, Polly Cooper? The new Southside Slut?”

\-- he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stick to that. 

“What are you talking about,” Veronica asks, anger at the last word furrowing in her eyebrows. She’s long since ridded words like those from the boys’ vocabularies, but Cheryl is a whole other beast to tame.

“That’s who Jason is out  _ fucking _ ,” she says crassly. “He says he’s smitten. How, I don’t know. Polly Cooper is just another piece of trailer park trash.”

“Cheryl,” he admonishes, something surging in him. It feels like she’s calling  _ Betty  _ that, and it’s pissing him off.

“What? It’s true. Every Southsider is not worth even a second of our time,” she declares. Jughead wants to argue that -- clearly, it’s not fucking true at all -- but stops in his tracks when he looks at her.

There are tears in her eyes.

* * *

 

Fangs sulks all the way home, because Sweet Pea beat him at Horse. Sweet Pea uses the word “creamed”, and smiles so wide he looks like Pennywise.  When Betty tells him so, Toni adds, “No, he looks like Spongebob,” to which Fangs counters,  completely serious, “The skull in Hamlet.”

Sweet Pea nips it in the bud before it can turn into a roast fest, instead saying, “So, where’s Polly exactly?”

Her friends all make curious noises, but Betty doesn’t say anything else. Mainly because it’s all she knows, but also because she and Polly aren’t that close. She doesn’t know where Polly is or what she’s doing and hadn’t asked anything except, “Are you safe?”

Polly had given her a resounding  _ YES! Ugh I’m fine _ , and  _ I’m 18 jfc I can manage on my own _ .

So yeah, Betty’s leaving that be.

For a long moment, they’re all quiet. They haven’t reached the unofficial line between North and South, though Betty notices that the two sides don’t look that much different. The trees, at least , are the main similarity . It’s not time yet for the leaves to change, but it’s getting close.  S he can’t wait.

Through the foliage, she sees Pop’s. Generally, Pop Tate has been accepting of Serpents coming in and eating. No one has taken advantage of his kindness, meaning that the Serpents have made sure they aren’t regulars there. Betty has never had it, except once when she was a child, when Hal still had a foothold in the North. All she remembers is that she had begged to go back for weeks, but they never did. Does it taste the same as she remembers? 

“How was the newspaper thing?” Toni asks, poking her in the leg.

Betty shifts in her seat. “It was good. There’s another girl on it, well there’s two I think but only one was there today. And she left early.”

“What’s her name? We’ll make sure to play nice with her,” Sweet Pea jokes.

“Actually, it’s Veronica Lodge,” Betty says, smirking. Sweet Pea doesn’t blush or flush or do anything of the sort, but she sees a definite  _ something  _ on his neck. “She seems pretty nice for a Northsider.”

“They all seem nice until they decide not to like you,” Toni mutters.

The other three pretend not to hear. Fangs asks, “What about the other two? Sweet Pea said they were guys.”

“Yeah, Jughead Jones and Kevin Keller. Keller as in Sheriff Keller.”

“Jughead Jones,” Fangs repeats. “That sounds familiar.”

“It does to me too,” Toni says, “But I don’t know how, if he’s a Northsider.”

Sweet Pea cuts in, his fingers tight on the wheel. “Maybe he was born here,” he suggests, and despite the tension in his body, his voice is light.

“Switching sides? I don’t know, man. The only person I know who’s done that is….”

“My dad,” Betty says, not offended like Fangs is clearly afraid of. “And he came from North to South, not South to North like Jughead would have.”

“I don’t know,” is all Sweet Pea says, “It could be possible.”

“Well, what’s he look like?” Toni asks.

_ Like the main character in a bestselling novel. Like the lead detective in an Agatha Christie mystery. Like the bad boy in every tropey romance movie. _ “He’s white, wears layers, has Gucci bags under his eyes, is never seen without his crown beanie.”

“The guy who was staring at you in the hall on the first day?” Somehow, Toni remembers, her eyes narrowing slightly as she thinks back. “Denim jacket? Black hair?”

“Yeah,” Betty says, thinking back to that moment. The way his eyes widened.

“I know all the fucking Bulldogs are getting on your case, Betts, but now the loners too? Do I need to bust his teeth in?”

“No! God, no, Sweet Pea, that won’t be necessary. He’s nice. Whatever it was the first day, he hasn’t acted like that again. He’s probably harmless. But if he does, you’ll be the first to know,” she adds, trying to calm him down.

“Good. I don’t trust him,” Sweet Pea says, completely unfounded.

“Guess I don’t either.” Fangs cracks his knuckles, laughing at the look on her face.

“Neither of you know him,” she points out.

“Yeah, and you do? After a few meetings?”

“I know him better than you do, and that’s all that matters.” Betty huffs, looking out the window again. They’re back in the South, and the sight of the rundown stores, the poverty, it makes her furious. The fact that they’ve all decided to hate Jughead before even meeting him doesn’t exactly help matters.

Of course, during dinner, Alice is mad at Betty for being mad at her friends. Really, she’s just feeding off Betty’s bad mood and using it as an excuse to be mean. She asks three times where Polly is, and three times, Betty says, “She’s hanging out with friends, Mom, I don’t know where exactly.”

Also, Betty is forced to recount her day again. It’s been like this all week, and Betty’s sick and tired of it.

“It’s not like there’s major changes from day to day, Mom,” she complains, immediately shovelling food into her mouth so she has an excuse  to not talk anymore .

“Elizabeth, that bite was too big. And don’t you dare talk back to me, young lady. I’m just concerned for you, like any good mother. God knows what’s in the water in the Northside.”

“Sorry Mom,” she mutters, taking a smaller bite. 

“N ow, the paper. Who else works on it?” Of course her mom is interested in this. Betty has never been in many clubs, since most of Southside High’s were fronts to do Jingle Jangle at school, but with all the ones she has been in, Alice has wanted a full background check on each of the people in it.

Betty swallows quickly. “Well, there’s me, obviously, and then there’s Kevin Keller -- “

“Keller, like Sheriff Keller?”

“ -- Yes, Mom. He’s nice. And gay, so you don’t have to worry about that. Then there’s Veronica Lodge, -- “

“Veronica Lodge. As in, Lodge Industries. Hermione Lodge.”

Rolling her eyes, Betty says, “ _ Yes _ , Mom. I didn’t talk to her a lot, she had to leave early for something, but she seems nice too.”

“ _ Nice _ , Elizabeth? Do I need to be worried?”

The acknowledgement of…  _ that  _ shocks Betty. It’s not like her mom and dad hate it about her, but it’s easier to leave it alone. Especially with all the gossip that surrounds their family. Anyway, Betty ignores it so often that hearing it be spoken about, no matter how indirectly, widens her eyes. She thinks she goes pale. With much less force, she says, “No, Mom, you don’t need to worry. I think she’s ‘mated already.”

“Hmm.” Alice makes her I Don’t Believe You face. “You said there were three children. Who’s the third?”

Betty clears her throat. “Jughead Jones.” She plans to say something about how  _ he’s nice, too, but not gay and not ‘mated. No, Mom, I’m not interested in him. Mom, it’s fine. _ But that’s now how it goes this time.

Alice’s face has soured more and more with each name, and at Jughead’s, she slams her fork down on the table. “Jones?” She repeats. “As in FP Jones?”

“How am I supposed to know, Mom?”

More to herself than to Betty, Alice says, “There’s only one family of Joneses here. It has to be the same.”

Betty raises an eyebrow, thoroughly judging her mom. “And? What’s wrong with that?”

Instead of answering, Alice says, “The Joneses are terrible people. I won’t have you around him any more than is absolutely necessary. Passing in the hallways  _ only _ .”

“Mom -- “ She yelps, shocked. Alice Cooper is a bitter, angry woman on a good day, but she’s never acted this way about anyone. Not even Honey Bun. Usually, all of that emotion is about Hal and the fact that he’s still upset he was forced to leave the Northside. 

“Uh-uh, honey, I won’t allow it.” She picks up her fork, just to point it at Betty threateningly. Betty sits back in her rickety seat. “Stay away from him.”

“I’m not quitting the paper just ‘cause you don’t like one of the people on the team,” Betty says, crossing her arms. “That’s ridiculous and unfair.”

Alice sighs through her nose, briefly rolling her eyes. Her contempt is obvious and infuriating. “I am your mother, and I will decide what’s ridiculous and unfair.”

“I just -- want to know why.” Actually, she wants to know why Alice is so adamant about this, why Jughead Jones specifically, why things went bad so quickly here. She wants to know a lot of things.

“Why what?”

“Why I have to stay away from Jughead.”  _ Goddammit _ , she thinks, watching the way her mom’s eyes narrow. She bemoans,  _ why did I have to word it that way? _

“Betty, do you have a crush on him? I don’t care that your school shut down, I’ll pull you out of Riverdale if I have to -- “

“Jesus, Mom, no! I just met him!”

“At the first hint -- the  _ first hint _ , Elizabeth -- I’ll be taking a trip up North. I’m serious.”

“Yeah, I believe you, Mom. It’s not like I can put anything past you.”

“You’re right, you can’t. I’ll do what I have to.”

Betty curls her fists at her mother’s words, wishing she could use another excuse for once other than the “I’m your mother and my word is law” one. “Can you just answer my question?”

“Which was?”

“Why I’m supposed to keep a one hundred foot radius between me and Jughead at all times?”

That look is back. The contempt one. It makes Betty feel like the smallest, most insignificant, stupid child in the whole world. 

“Jughead’s father, FP -- he was the one who called your brother  _ that night _ .”

She remembers, suddenly and very clearly, the way Chic’s phone had rang. He’d gone outside to answer it, talking just quiet enough that Alice couldn’t hear through the walls. The call had been a long one -- he’d stayed outside through an episode and a half of Storage Wars. When he came inside, something had obviously been wrong. He’d been crying, which was shocking to Betty, barely thirteen at the time and extremely hormonal. Chic had never cried in front of her, not even when Grandma Smith died.

He’d said he was going to visit a friend, and had grabbed his helmet. Alice had attempted to stop him. Hal had said, “Let the boy do what he wants. He’s an adult, Alice.” As far as Betty can remember, it was the only time he ever stood up for Chic, who was not his biological son and whom he’d never gotten along well with. 

Chic had left that night on his bike, and in the morning, he turned up on the side of the road. Hit and run, they’d said.

He isn’t dead, but he might as well be.

Betty pushes away from the table. “Stop lying, Mom. That’s insane, even for you. Jughead’s dad would have no reason to call Chic.”

“There are things you don’t know, Elizabeth.”

_ Stop being cryptic and tell me, then! _ She wants to scream.  _ Stop lying to me! Stop keeping things from me! _

“Whatever, Mom,” she says instead, and goes and joins Hal on the couch to watch trashy TV. It won’t calm her down, but at least it’s better than being faced with her terrible mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment I'll love you forever <333 Do you have any theories on why FP called Chic? Or if Alice is lying about that to keep Betty away from Jughead? What's up with Cheryl? 
> 
> One day I will respond, I swear!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More bughead interactions!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a few days late, I've spent the past week caught between school and writing my other fic with my friend Ari!
> 
> Warning for alcholism and some of what that entails, specifically between an alcoholic parent and their child. There's also a mention of cancer, though it has nothing to do with any of the main characters.

S n eaking out of the house used to be easy. Jughead would just go to the downstairs bathroom, claiming something to be wrong with his own if his dad saw him, lock the door, and go out the window. When FP caught onto that, Jughead started going out his own bedroom window.

That was always only to sneak to Archie’s house, though. On Friday morning, he’s just going to school. He’s told himself repeatedly not to sneak out for school, anger and injustice at his own situation in his chest. It’s not fair that he can’t leave for something so universal without feeling like he has to leave unseen.

So, as Jughead tiptoes to the door, he’s not sneaking out of the house. What he’s doing is simply leaving without informing his dad.

Jughead reaches out for the doorknob, barely brushing it with his fingers before a throat clears behind him. He jumps about five feet in the air, his first thought being,  _ SCATTER! _ Damn John Mulaney. 

Whirling around, Jughead comes face to face with his dad.

FP Jones is not a small guy. For a long time, that meant muscle -- working construction really helped build it up. Now, though, it just means he’s got a beer belly. He hasn’t bothered to buy better fitting clothes, so his old Henley is tight around the stomach, his flannel doing a bang up job of distracting from it. His jeans are buttoned, thank god, but Jughead is reminded of the time his dad, so drunk he was sobbing and begging for things he can’t have, walked (and tripped) around with his pants by his ankles. That was the day Jughead learned his dad likes to go commando.

This morning, at least, he seems… not put together, but not falling apart, either. He’s swaying a little bit, which makes Jughead think he’s tipsy even though it’s 7:45 in the am. However, his eyes look clear.

“What, Dad?” Jughead asks, not at all interested in hearing what he has to say.

“Jug,” FP says. He breathes in deeply and lets it out, his eyes closing. “Jug.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“Where are you going?”

“To school, Dad. It’s Friday morning. Were you up all night?”

FP shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The flippancy is infuriating. Does he not care at all? Is he really that far gone? Meanly, Jughead asks, “Is it wearing off now, or are you about to hit your second stride?”

FP cuts his eyes at Jughead, jaw jumping. “I don’t want to talk about that, Jughead. What I want is to talk about you.”

“That’s too bad, Dad.”  _ I would’ve loved to talk about me a few years ago when I was going hungry ‘cause you were too busy getting drunk to take care of me. _ “People don’t always get what they want. And anyway, I have to go, I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

“It’s not -- “

“I don’t care, Dad.” 

He turns back around, and gets his hand on the doorknob, is just turning it and feeling the clicks when FP says, voice wet in a way Jughead immediately erases from his memory, “I feel like I barely know you anymore, son. Please, just siddown for a second.”

Throat tight, Jughead says, “That’s your own fault. You have no idea what’s going on with me, and at this point, I don’t care anymore.” He swallows hard, and opens the door. The affluent neighborhood around them feels like freedom. “Bye.”

He doesn’t cry on the way to school, nor does he cry once he gets there. Bu he doesn’t fully gain his composure until class distracts him with lab work. Once he’s not thinking about his dad anymore, he starts thinking about how he skipped breakfast, and then his stomach is twisting emptily with nausea.

When free period comes around, Jughead hoofs it to the lounge. Reggie is walking towards the vending machine when he gets there, but Jughead skids in front of him. He presses the buttons for the first thing that catches his eye, sliding a dollar bill in the machine as quickly as he can. The second it’s out, he’s grabbed it and opened it, finding his way to the couch by sense memory rather than sight. His first bite into the candy is like heaven, his eyes closing in joy.

“W oah, you good?” Archie asks, stepping in front of Jughead before he can reach the couch.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine.” He takes another bite as if to show how fine he is.

“You just ran in here like a bat out of hell.”

“Yeah? I skipped breakfast this morning. I’m hungry.”

Archie’s eyebrows do the I’m Concerned thing. It’s like they furrow but also widen out at the same time. Impossible to explain. In an undertone, he asks, “Your dad again?”

Jughead shrugs, taking another bite. He doesn’t want to answer. Archie already thinks he knows what’s best for Jughead, and if he heard about this morning, he’d give Jughead terrible advice like  _ listen  _ to FP or something. Talk to him. Yeah, whatever.

He sidesteps his oldest friend and settles down on the couch. In a minute, when the candy is gone, he’ll have to get back up to get another one, but that’s then and this is now. He takes stock of the room -- Veronica is checking her phone on one of the chairs, Kevin at her feet, typing away on his laptop. Cheryl and Josie are absent, and obviously Reggie is here. Reggie’s ego is comparable only to Cheryl’s. They hate each other for the most part, so luckily Jughead doesn’t have to deal with them together. Sometimes, they team up -- both being captains and “that means something, you dolt” -- but not often. Archie is standing there looking at him like he wants someone else to notice that Jughead has skipped breakfast. Thankfully, none of them seem to care.

It’s just another day. Everything is normal. FP can’t ruin Jughead’s day. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s out of fucking candy.

Jughead gets to his feet, looking at the three dollar bills in his wallet and wondering if he could convince Veronica to buy him a drink at lunch. He needs all three of the dollar bills right now, or he really will start eating his own fingers. 

Just as he’s about to ask her, the door to the lounge opens. In walks, of all people, fucking Sweet Pea. Hot on his heels are Betty and two others -- one girl and one boy. Jughead doesn’t pay them any attention, instead tracking Betty as she glances around at him and his friends. Maybe he imagines it but he really, seriously thinks she lights up when she sees him.

Then Reggie has to say, oozing masculinity and smugness, “What are you doing in here? This is Bulldog territory.”

“The whole school is Bulldog territory,” the built guy says, rolling his eyes. “Chill out bro. We’re here to get stuff from the vending machine.”

There’s four of them and surely they’re all going to get something. A glance at the machine tells Jughead they’ll wipe it out. 

Some caveman Neanderthal thought bursts through his hunger.  _ Let Betty get first pick. _ Like if he just provides for her well enough, she’ll leave Sweet Pea and jump in his arms. Ugh.

Sometimes, he wishes he could go back to being ‘mateless, or better yet, to the first day. He’d stop her in the hall, he’d say his words, and things would be so much easier. But really, this isn’t terrible. Just confusing and draining and making him feel like every other hormonal teenage boy, which he hates with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

“Fine,” Archie says, as if allowing them to use the public vending machine is the extent of his kindness. “Then you can be on your merry way.”

“Archiekins!” Veronica nearly screeches, business woman smile on her face as she basically hops over Kevin trying to get to Archie’s side. Her nails dig into his arm. Through clenched teeth, she says, “Don’t fall for Reggie’s macho bullshit. The Southsiders are our friends, remember?”

“Ronnie, they’re interrupting.”

She looks around for show. “Interrupting what? Jughead’s free show? This is a public space. Be nice.” Her gaze turns to Reggie, who she glares at. “I get that your head is the size of an elephant,  _ Reginald _ , but I don’t care. So put the attitude away or G-T-F-O.”

This immediately turns into a bickering session between Veronica, Archie, and Reggie. They all but forget the Serpents still standing there, waiting to be allowed in. Kevin pushes to his feet, inching around the argument to face the group. He moves to stand by Jughead, but obviously isn’t looking his way.

“Well, hi.  Sorry about them. ” He says to Sweet Pea,  pinpointing him as  the leader. To Betty, he says, “Hey! Good to see you again.”

She smirks, eyes bouncing between the three idiots. Well, the two idiots and the goddess who will hopefully help him out. “You too. And you, too, Jughead.”

He gives a salute, then instantly regrets it, because how dumb did he just look? The way her smirk morphs into a smile tells him he looked  _ very  _ stupid.  C learing his throat, he says, “Uh, you can go use the vending machine. Free country and all. Just don’t wipe it out before I can get something, too.”

“You just got a king sized Fastbreak, Jug,” Kevin says.

“I skipped breakfast,” he replies.

Kevin makes a shocked face. His hand comes up and lays flat on Jughead’s forehead. “Are you okay? Are you being taken over by aliens?”

“ _ Kev _ , yes, I’m fine,” he says, swatting his friend’s hand away. “There are no aliens here except Reggie.”

“Hey!” Said alien turns from the argument, ready to yell at Jughead for making fun of him, but instead recalls that there are Southsiders here. He curls his lip. “What are you still doing here?”

The girl he doesn’t know rolls her eyes so hard, Jughead can  _ feel  _ it. “As has already been said, it’s a public space. If you just let us past you, we’ll get out of your helmet hair ASAP.”

Jughead can’t help but laugh at that, and he’s joined in by pretty much everyone else. 

Reggie’s face turns red. Grumbling, he steps aside. The sight of the amazing vending machine is like a punch to Jughead’s stomach, and he’s reminded that oh yeah, he’s  _ fucking hungry _ . He chews on his lip instead, watching as the two Southside boys jostle each other in front of the machine. Betty and the other girl stay with them.

Betty catches his eye and widens them a little, tilting her head toward the other girl. For a second, he doesn’t get it. She’s telling him something but what? He looks over to the other girl and realizes,  _ oh, she wants introductions _ .

To the girl, he says, “I’m Jughead, and this is Kevin. You?”

Not very tactful but it’s not like Jughead has ever been taught manners.

“Toni,” she says, and then asks, inexplicably, “There many Kevins at this school?”

Kevin shakes his head. “Nope, there’s me and one of the teachers, but that’s it. Why?”

Betty and Toni share a look.  _ Okay, _ Jughead thinks,  _ she talks through not talking. Got it. _ “No reason,” Betty says amiably. She claps Toni on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go help make sure the boys don’t get stuck, or something? God knows Pea could get Fangs to do anything.”

“Got something to talk about with these two?”

“Yeah.” She sounds serious, why does she sound serious? Is something wrong?

Toni hums and walks away, leaving Jughead and Kevin with Betty just by herself.

“What’s up?” Kevin asks, zero anxiety in his voice. Lucky asshole.

“Oh, I was just wondering if I have to read the whole book? You didn’t say -- “

Stupidly relieved, Jughead says, “Don’t worry about reading all of it. We mainly use it as a buffer, you know, in case there’s something we don’t know. But we got it down pat for the most part, and we’ll teach you when the need arises.”

She nods, looking relieved herself (her shoulders lowering is what tips him off, and he finds himself staring at the line of them like an idiot). “Phew. I mean, I was sitting there last night kinda freaking out about it.”

Kevin says something in response. Jughead doesn’t listen, instead glancing over to the vending machine. Toni, Sweet Pea, and what’d she say, Fangs? All three of them are standing around, arguing about what to get. Fangs, the built guy, is making hand gestures like he’s giving a lecture.

Suddenly, Jughead is looking at Veronica’s smiling face. She isn’t looking back at him, though, instead beaming at Betty in a way that clearly makes the blonde girl tense up.

“Hi again! Sorry about Reggie and Archie, jocks, you know how they are. I’d say dumb jocks, but unfortunately, they both have some brains. Reggie less so,  _ considerably  _ less so, but still.” She shrugs. “Anyway, I was thinking, we have a B&G groupchat, and we should totally add you to it!”

Despite the fact that they certainly do not have a groupchat, Jughead doesn’t say anything, knowing where she’s going with it. He wants her number, too.

“Uh. Sure, okay.” Betty visibly attempts to make herself look more excited than she is. “How -- ”

“Here, give me your phone. I’ll text myself on it and then we can add you.”

Betty, after a moment of hesitation, hands her phone over. It’s an older generation iPhone, even older than Jughead’s is. He knows how Veronica feels about that, but thankfully, she does have tact, and doesn’t say anything. Instead, she just types her number in, and texts not only herself, but Kevin and Jughead too. His phone buzzes twice, though, in quick succession.

H e pulls it out of his pocket, taking note of the new phone number, and also a text from FP. Something catches in Jughead’s throat as he reads it.  **_Dad (RIP):_ ** _ I’m trying Jug. Please believe me. _

_ You’re not, _ he thinks about sending back.  _ You’re not trying at all. Why should I believe you when we go through this every six fucking months. _

“You okay?” Betty asks, and suddenly he’s got all of his friends looking at him.

He swallows. “Yep, never better. Oh, by the way, V? Is there any way you could shell out for a drink at lunch? Please?”

“Of course,” she says, smiling still. “How much do you need?”

He forces a laugh and hopes it sounds natural. By the way her and Kevin’s eyes narrow, he doesn’t think it works. “I don’t need it yet, or I’ll spend it all on candy. Probably only a couple bucks.”

“Alrighty. Now, about this groupchat -- ”

“Is Ethel gonna be in it?” Betty asks. She’s looking at him, her eyes on his face, and he feels  _ seen _ . Like she’s examining his bones, or maybe just his acne. “You said something about her but nothing else.”

“Ethel’s been kinda busy this past week,” Kevin says, the tactful way of saying she’s sitting in her dad’s hospital room. Jughead is a dick but even he’s not going to kick her off the newspaper when her dad is dying of cancer. “We can add her once she gets back.”

“Oh, okay. Well, um,” she starts, but then Sweet Pea is back, walking towards them but somehow throwing a glare at Archie and Reggie at the same time. He sidles up to Betty, not tucking her under his arm, but getting very close.

“You ready to go, shorty?”

She smiles at him, nods, and waves to them as she and her friends finally leave.

Jughead finds that he’s not hungry anymore. Hella nauseous, though.

Veronica huffs a sigh. “Well, that didn’t work.”

Jughead doesn’t know what she means, but hums in agreement anyway. Kevin says something, and then they’re both walking away, Kevin to his laptop and Veronica to where Archie and Reggie are apparently arguing.

For a few moments, Jughead stands there, trying to breathe. He’s left his dad on read, and his soulmate has a fucking boyfriend, and he’s possibly about to stop functioning.

He turns on his heel, and walks over to Kevin. “Hey,” he says, gently kicking Kevin’s thigh.

“Hi, Jug.”

“Can I come over after school? I wanna talk about stuff.”

Kevin looks up, tilting his head back on the seat of the chair so he can see Jughead’s face. “Of course. You want a ride?”

“Yeah,” Jughead says, ten million pounds of weight on his shoulders but relief in his voice. “That’d be great.”

* * *

 

They decide to sit in the cafeteria during lunch, taking a table in the back corner up. Joaquin joins them, as do Red and Nix. Betty ignores them all, but especially Joaquin. It’s weird knowing that his soulmate is Kevin Keller, the nerdy, wrestling writer. Toni, sitting across from her and next to Sweet Pea, also doesn’t look at him. But maybe she just can’t see him around their very tall friend.

Fangs and Nix start talking about something, Sweet Pea and Red joining in. Toni starts to scroll on her phone. She doesn’t know what Joaquin is doing.

Betty herself finds her thoughts stuck on Kevin. Not him as a person, but the fact that he’s got a soulmate so close and doesn’t even know.  _ What will he think of Joaquin? _ She wonders. Kevin seems like an outgoing guy, friendly and eager to please. Joaquin is friendly enough, but certainly not outgoing and doesn’t really care if people are happy with him or not.

Soulmates are supposed to be different, she knows that. They’re supposed to balance each other out. Her own soulmate will probably be someone who doesn’t get angry easily, who finds comfort in family, who likes country music. Blegh.

She tries to picture what her soulmate will look like, and for some reason, the only person that comes to mind isn’t a celebrity or someone she’s found cute in the past, but Jughead Jones.

It’s not something she should entertain. She knows that. Yet she allows herself to imagine cuddling with him, kissing him, taking great happiness in the fact that he was made for her and her alone.  T h ey’d live in a house, a real one, and the AC would work, and Betty would never feel like the people she lived with hated her. He would know about her scars and he wouldn’t belittle them, say they’re for attention.

Eyes hot, she forces herself to stop thinking about it. 

Toni looks at her from across the table, face neutral but head tilted. It’s a silent question, an  _ are you okay? _ Somehow, Toni always knows when the rest of them are upset. Betty nods, quick and small, and then she takes a big bite of her apple.

Her thoughts turn right back to Jughead. The more she talks to him, the more convinced she is that he’s not a creep at all. Maybe she should apologize for saying that to him? It would help her chances --

_ Wait, what? _

Chance of what? Her chance with him? Why is she even thinking about that?

Her traitorous mind thinks,  _ well, he is cute _ . A lot cuter than frickin’ Honey Bun, that’s for sure. Jughead is just slightly taller than her, with much darker hair that she wants to drag her fingers through, and tug until he moans. He smiles at his friends (and her), showing off pretty nice teeth and laugh lines on his cheeks. And his body -- admittedly she hasn’t paid much attention to it, but he seems fit enough. Nothing like the jocks here, but not skinny like a string bean either.

She imagines him saying her name, calling her  _ babe _ , and her crush is cemented.

“The gay kid seemed nice enough,” Sweet Pea says, breaking into her thoughts. He’s not talking to her, or even speaking that loudly, but suddenly her attention zooms out and refocuses on her lunch table.

“What gay kid?” Joaquin asks.

Fangs starts to say something, but, with no way to tell what he’s about to say, Betty panics and speaks over him. He looks at her in irritation, but she ignores him and says, “This kid who I work with on the newspaper now. And he never said he’s gay, so I really hope you’re not stereotyping, Pea.”

He grumbles, rolling his eyes. “Of course not,  _ mom _ .”

“Good.”

Toni says, “That girl Veronica was way too happy to see us.”

“You think she’s got bad intentions?” Fangs asks.

“No, not necessarily. I don’t know, just… seemed weird, I guess. Never in a million years would I look that happy to talk to a couple gang members.”

Sweet Pea givers her a look, silently saying,  _ bitch please _ . Of them all, she was the one who would walk up to any old Serpent and ask them a billion questions. She’s always been the curious one, the one willing to press buttons until she gets her desired reaction.

Betty says, “I think she’s just being nice to me ‘cause of the Blue & Gold. You’re my friends, so it follows that she’s nice to you, too.”

Toni immediately jokes about her saying “it follows” like some kind of theater nerd, which Fangs gets huffy at.

“You know I’m into that stuff,” he says, quiet so Red and Nix, having their own conversation at the end of the table, can’t hear. Probably Joaquin, too, but he’s not looking their way. When she looks over her shoulder at where his eyes are pointed, it’s to find that he’s looking at Kevin and another kid talking. Kevin, she has to admit, looks like he’s trying to flirt. No one blinks like that -- fluttering their eyelashes -- in real life.

“I do know,” Toni says, pushing her food around on her styrofoam plate. “That’s why I said that.”  _ Duh _ , she doesn’t say, but they all hear it anyway.

They start to bicker, and Betty watches, amused. Sweet Pea joins in here and there, but for the most part, joins her in being entertained and leaving them to it.

When her phone buzzes with a text, she assumes it’s from Veronica or the groupchat or something. Betty’s not exactly freaking out over being friends with Northsiders, in a good or bad way, but it’s still nice. Having friends is always a good thing. She pulls out her phone, expecting something from Kevin, maybe, but what she gets instead is a text from her dad.

**_Dad:_ ** _ Hey Betty, just wanted to say I’m with your mother on this. The Jones men have done terrible things. I don’t want you to get hurt like your brother _

Betty doesn’t respond, instead muting him so she won’t get any further texts. She wonders though if her parents are accusing Jughead’s dad of hitting Chic. While she has no idea of what kind of car the Joneses have, she does know that it was a big vehicle that hit her brother, one that was going fast and probably dented terribly.  No one has ever found it, but it’s not like it’s easy to hide the evidence of slamming your car so hard into a person that they go flying.

Oh god, she doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

R esolving to go see him soon, she turns her attention back to her friends, but the bickering is over. Fangs is chugging his milk, Sweet Pea discussing something with the Serpents at the other end of the table. Toni, though. Toni is looking at her.

“What’s up?” She asks.

Toni shrugs. “I’m just wondering, is that Jughead kid single?” The way she says it doesn’t imply that she’s _ just wondering _ .  It does imply, however, that she’s not thinking about Cheryl Blossom at all.

Betty has to bite down on the immediate urge to call Code Staircase --  _ back off _ . It’ll only start a fight, which she doesn’t want, and anyway, Jughead isn’t hers to Staircase. All she has with him is a crush she literally just realized, and a club. Not even any classes.

Still, her fingernails are digging into the soft flesh of her palms. They aren’t cutting through yet. This is the point at which she usually forces her fingers to stretch out, if she can catch herself. She doesn’t  this time .

“I don’t know,” she says. She can’t decide whether the feeling in her chest is jealousy or something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'll get around to answering comments some day. In the meantime, keep em coming! I read them all and I love all of them so much.
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter is one of several interludes I'm going to do, which I'll just say right now will be from Kevin and Toni's POVs instead of Jughead and Betty's. It'll explain some stuff about what's going on with them, though still feel free to ask me any questions you have!
> 
> <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bughead talk about their soulmates and pasts after reading Betty's story for the newspaper!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO POST. My life since August has been fuccin awful and stressful and I totally fell out of this fandom and lost whatever motivation I had retained through the clusterfuck that was my life. The fact that the next thing I had to post was a half-written interlude that I have no motivation or ideas for?? Yeah that made it worse. I decided I'd just post it separately if I ever get around to finishing it. I do want you guys to see it since I like what I have for the most part, but since it doesn't directly affect the narrative here, I thought this would be the best option. This chapter is almost 5k too so YEET.
> 
> Also this story got plagiarized??? The person who did it straight up said "I'm doing my own take on it" like GIRLLLL. I'm all for you guys writing stories inspired by this fic! Hell if you wanted to write one in-verse, just ask and I'll probably say yes! BUT TO COPY ALMOST WORD FOR WORD? Not cool. Thank you so much to the people who informed me!! I forget if I responded to your comments now but I definitely appreciate them and the quickness of it! 
> 
> Beta'd (I think) by my lovely wife Mari <3333

Monday afternoon sees Jughead sitting at his desk, attempting to write the Southside Bus piece. 

Any and all attempts to ask Weatherbee and McCoy have garnered him a grand total of  _ nothing _ . They both say it’s state regulation, that there’s not enough money for gas, that the drivers don’t want to go there. But when he asks the drivers, they say there is enough gas, and they don’t mind driving down all that much. In fact, one of them said they feel so bad about turning back the Southside kids that they’d be willing to spend their own money on gas (if that was actually the problem).

He chews on his pencil, staring at the different quotes he has and at his outline. He wants to start out with the bus drivers, first, he thinks, and then Weatherbee and McCoy. They don’t have much to say about the risk they’re putting the Southsiders at, which leads him right to Sabrina’s part.

All of her quotes have been texts, so they’ve been easy to move over to his list. With Weatherbee and Mayor McCoy, he’d had to record them, and they hadn’t exactly been happy about it. Apparently it’s totally normal for them to whisper every word. He’s been going back and listening to the recordings, working on the transcript so he won’t get in trouble for “misquoting”.

A knock on the door interrupts his thoughts.

It’s Betty, wearing a bright and comfortable looking sweater over black leggings. Her leather jacket is doing a great job at making Jughead’s heart pound out of his chest.  T he ponytail she’s always sporting looks loose. She’s smiling, her green eyes crinkling in the corners.

He notices all of that in seconds, already used to cataloguing everything he sees.

“Hi,” he greets, trying to sound like a normal human being. “What’s up?”

She steps into the room carrying a notebook and her backpack. There’s no one behind her, and it makes something in Jughead’s chest loosen. Her bag is set down in front of the desk while she takes the closest chair and pulls it in front. She winces when her knees bang against it, and starts to apologize but he says, “It’s okay. As long as you’re okay, I mean.”

She nods, and he watches her hair bounce. (Like a creep.) “Yeah, I’m okay. Anyway, Pea, Fangs, and Toni are all in the gym, and I thought I’d drop by here. Um, I’m almost done with the op-ed, and I don’t know how the workshopping works but -- “

“You want me to look it over? I have time,” he offers, even though he sort of doesn’t. FP expects him home before dark, probably so Jughead’s very presence can shame him into not drinking. It hasn’t been easy the past few days. Also, he really needs to work on the bus piece, but whatever. None of that really matters when he’s looking into the hopeful eyes of his soulmate.

“Would you?” She asks, smiling at him. He’s noticed she’s been doing it more. They really only ever see each other in the halls, but when they pass by each other, she’s usually got a smile for him. At his nod, she says, “Thanks! It’s on here -- ” she wiggles the notebook in her hand “ -- ‘cause I write better like this. Do you -- ?”

Jughead reaches out for it. “Here, I’ll take it. If you want, I think the lounge is empty. You could go get something from the machine.”

Her face pinches, and she shakes her head. “Nah, I’m good.”

He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. Instead he says, jokingly, “I was hoping you’d get something for me, too.”

It falls flat though. Her eyes widen, just a little, and she leans back like she’s going to get up. “Oh! I can still -- “

“I’m just teasing,” he says, “But if you seriously want to, I’ll give you the money.” When it seems like she’s unsure of what to say, he says, “Depends on if you wanna be here while I read this.”

At that, Betty gets to her feet. “I definitely don’t,” she says. “What do you want from the machine?”

“Whatever they have that’s big and full of sugar.” He hands her a couple dollars, and can’t stop himself from saying, “Get something for yourself, too.”

“I don’t need your pity money.”

“It’s not pity money, it’s me rewarding you for finishing your first piece with us.”

“It’s not quite done -- ”

“Close enough, anyway,” he says, looking at the pages with her writing on them. It looks to be around 300 words, maybe a little more.

She hums, looking annoyed (her mouth a flat line and her eyes  r olling), and leaves without saying anything in response. He watches, eyes studiously kept above the waist line because he’s not actually an asshole. Once she’s gone, he looks down to the notebook. The lines are double spaced, and indented, which he’ll easily admit to being surprised by. Not because of her, honestly it makes sense from what he knows about her, but because not even Kevin remembers to indent, and he’s usually pretty particular about things.

Her handwriting is a little difficult to read at first, but he gets used to it quickly.

_ The Southside Integration by E. Cooper _

_     I did not want to come here. I know I shouldn’t start this out like that but it’s the truth. I did not want to come to Riverdale High. My friends did, they thought the school would be a step up.  _

In pen, Jughead changes the comma after “did” to a semicolon, making a mental note to look out for more spots where she might’ve gotten that wrong.

_ Our whole lives, we were told things about the Northside and this school, as I’m sure you were told things about the Southside and our school. I’ll admit to thinking this school would be full of rich snobs, people who spent money without a care, who would hate us on principle. I’ll also be blunt and say I’ve met several people like that, Reggie Mantle included. _

Jughead frowns at that, and, with his pen, crosses Reggie’s name out. He’d love to keep it there, but he’s also well aware that Reggie would be so furious, he’d get the Blue & Gold shut down.

_     But most of the kids I’ve met have been nice and welcoming. _

He crosses out the “But”, and writes a capital “m” over the first letter of _most_. Underneath the sentence, he writes,  **I can see you’re about to back it up but this should be reworded. Too simple.**

_ On the first day, most of us thought the welcoming desk was a way to mock us. I felt belittled, to be honest.  _

Under “belittled” he writes,  **wrong word maybe?**

_ At Southside High, no one cared enough to be welcoming when there were new students. We all joked that if you make it past freshman year without dropping out, then you must be made of steel. If you graduate, praise Jesus! [put stats of droppers here] _

Knowing what Southside High’s webpage looked like, Jughead writes,  **If you can’t find stats, give personal anecdote of someone who graduated or dropped out. Good place to put** **a** **quote.**

_ In retrospect, we understand that Veronica Lodge, who headed the table, really was trying to be reach out. _

He crosses out the “be”. For some reason, the small mistake makes him smile.

_ That first day, however, was a trying one for all of us. While no fights have broken out between a Serpent (or Southsider in general) and a Bulldog since, there have been close calls. The Bulldogs seem to think that Southside girls are ready and willing to be catcalled, they do it often enough that I dread walking the halls. _

Jughead stares at the paragraph, not sure if he can publish it. He corrects the comma after “catcalled” to a semicolon, and then he sits back in his chair for a moment.

Catcalling at Riverdale High is not a new thing. FP has told a story or two where it featured in the background, and Jughead’s time here has revealed that the seniors in particular enjoy using it as a hazing ritual against the freshman. Obviously, it’s worse for the girls, but he can remember two different times that somebody called out to him -- one called him Crown Boy and told him he’d look great in sweatpants,  _ commando _ (a salacious wink accompanied the words); the other called him baby and asked if he wanted to skip class together.

Cheryl doesn’t get catcalled as far as Jughead knows, her wealth and power scaring everyone straight. Veronica has been once or twice, but Jughead wasn’t there either time. Josie is routinely catcalled, usually with some variation of the word  _ pussycat _ . 

I t’s infuriating for all of them, especially those who are always dealing with it, but Weatherbee has done nothing about it. Weatherbee has done a fat load of  _ nothing  _ this year.

Swallowing roughly, he continues reading.

_ I predict that the next fight to break out will be because of that. And we’ll say, this could’ve been prevented. _

**I don’t think this will be allowed** , he writes under it. Someone will claim that Betty’s looking for a fight, when it couldn’t possibly be farther from the truth.  **Also, strays from tone and point.**

_     To sum everything up, I find the school a welcome change of pace from Southside High. It’s the people inhabiting it that pose the only problem, but the Integration has only been happening for a  _ _ week _ _. Let’s give it more time, and I’m sure everything will work itself out. And if not, I’ll be happy to punch a Bulldog. _

**Definitely not allowed!** He writes under the last sentence, but he’s smiling as he does it.

It’s not the emotional piece he’d been expecting, but he thinks maybe this is better. It’s truthful, it’s real, and it’ll be a good rep of what the Southsiders are thinking, hopefully.

Betty comes back a minute later, but he still says, “Perfect timing, I just finished,” to get the ball rolling.

“Is my handwriting that bad?” She jokes, dropping a large sized KitKat on his desk, taking her seat again, and fiddling with the package of a Rice Krispies Treat.

Jughead shakes his head, a million and one sarcastic comments on his tongue. “Nah,” is all he manages.

She gives him a look, her eyes narrowed a little bit but her lips curled up, eyebrows soft (he doesn’t know how else to describe them, but he does know that he’s supposed to be a goddamn writer, aka good with words, and yet here he is. No one is indescribable except, apparently, Betty Cooper). “Well, like I said, it’s not done. But how’s it looking so far?”

“I made a few minor notes.” He hands the notebook back to her and watching as her eyes go straight for his pen marks. “Mostly punctuation. It looks good. A little more work and it’ll be good to publish.”

She hums, reading, and he takes the moment to devour his KitKat. Maybe he’s just an idiot teenage boy, but it tastes so much better than usual, and all because she got it for him. (Yeah, with his money, but details.)

After a little while, she suddenly sits up. “Okay, so what exactly is a semicolon and what does it do?”

“I’m glad you asked, because I love semicolons,” he says, like a total freak, but she doesn’t seem to think he’s weird. If she does, he doesn’t notice, at least. He gives a spiel about them -- they go between sentence fragments, or in lists that include commas, and they are very useful -- and she listens to every word.

Once he’s done, she sits back and rereads his comments. They go over every single one, and he complains about the catcalling, which leads them down a spiral of topics until Jughead is saying -- “There should be a Southside Insight column. Seriously. Us Northsiders need to know that’s what you’re all thinking.”

Betty isn’t looking at him like he hung the moon but she is looking at him like she thinks he’s a genius. “I know people who’d do it,” she says, excited to the point that she’s  _ grinning _ , her teeth showing. They’re nice teeth. It’s a stupid thought, but he has lots of those, so it’s not surprising. “I’d have to bribe them a little, but that’s nothing.”

Jughead, within minutes, is setting up a new column. Kevin and Veronica probably won’t be happy he’s not consulting them first, but he has a feeling Ethel will be on his side when she comes back. While he’s doing it, she’s texting people and telling him names to write down -- to follow up with. He asks her how many Southsiders she knows who haven’t been able to take the bus home, and then he’s inundated with people willing to give him quotes.

It’s amazing. She’s amazing.

W h en they reach the end of her contacts list, he thinks maybe that’ll be it. Maybe she’ll leave and he’ll have to wait until the next Blue & Gold meeting to see her again.

However, that’s not what happens at all. Instead of leaving, Betty makes herself more comfortable in the majorly  _ un _ comfortable chair, and her eyes light up as she tells him her ideas for the column. He writes those down, too, and makes sure to give his ideas and see what she thinks.

Somehow, Jughead isn’t really sure how, the conversation turns to their friends.

She explains that Sweet Pea and Fangs haven’t met their soulmates yet, but doesn’t comment on Toni. There’s no mention of her relationship with Sweet Pea. Jughead is more than happy to ignore it.

Of his friends, the first she asks about is Kevin. He tells her all he knows and is allowed to share -- that Kevin has quite a bit of anxiety about it and has been wondering if the guy is a Southsider. When she asks, “Do you think he’d mind that?”, Jughead says no. ‘Cause honestly, he thinks that Kevin would take anyone who wouldn’t break his heart at this point.

“What’s about Veronica’s soulmate situation?” There’s an inquisitive little curl to her lips.

“She’s with Archie. They met on her first day here, a few years ago now. Their words were introductions, so they both knew the name of their ‘mate their whole lives.”

“Wow. That’s pretty lucky.” After a short pause, she adds sarcastically, “Well, don’t look too happy for them.”

He laughs. “It’s not that I’m not happy for them, it’s just… all I ever hear about them is how good things are. Like how  _ good _ ,” he stresses, raising his eyebrows. Her mouth drops open into a small ‘o’ as she understands what he’s getting at. “All the time. Every day. When they argue, they both text me about it. I honestly feel like I’m their third partner.”

It’s not a joke, but she giggles, anyway. “That doesn’t sound like fun at all.”

“It’s not,” he sighs dramatically, grinning all the way through it.

“Well, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s your soulmate situation?”

* * *

Jughead doesn’t react in the face, but in the body. He tenses, fingers tapping a rhythm on the desk.

“I don’t know,” he says, copping out. But he looks so…  _ something _ , something not good, that she doesn’t call him out on it.

_ Would it make you feel better if I told you my story? _ “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I don’t have a situation, I guess.” His voice wobbles on ‘situation’, making him clear his throat.

Betty sits up straight, leaning forward. This is the boy her parents say is a terrible person -- this boy, who has been sitting here helping her for over an hour, who paid for her snack, who promises to call out the catcalling in every newspaper until he’s kicked off, ages out, or it’s dealt with. Who is clearly upset about whatever happened with his soulmate.

“Everyone has a situation,” she says gently, “Even people who haven’t met their ‘mate.”

He meets her eyes, and for a long moment, they’re both silent. Something passes between them, an intensity Betty has never felt before, that doesn’t go away when she blinks or he looks away. 

“Mine,” she starts, and has to lick her lips when her mouth dries out. Is she really about to do this?  _ Yes _ , she thinks, and takes the plunge. “I think soulmates are only good in fictional settings. The idea of them is too good to be true. A person meant just for you? Who compliments everything about you? Who’ll never leave you? It just seems like bullshit. No one can be that perfect for another person.”

Her voice cracks on ‘perfect’. That terrible word -- the one she can’t escape even in Sunnyside.

Jughead reaches out, stopping just short of taking her hand in his. She’s the one to complete the motion for him, laying her hand on top of his, taking small comfort in the feeling of skin on skin.

“See, my parents are soulmates. And everyone knows that having your parents be soulmates is supposed to make things better for you, right?  ‘C ause you’re made of pure love, or whatever. But my parents don’t love each other like that. My dad was born on the Northside and my mom on the South. And now they’re both stuck in Sunnyside and neither of them are happy. None of us are.” She sniffles, realizing as she does that her eyes are welling with tears. She wipes at them, groaning, “Oh god, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

When she looks at him, she doesn’t see any of the pity or amusement she’s come to expect from people. Instead, he’s looking at her like he wants to help but has no idea how. “Sometimes you just gotta let it out, I guess,” he tells her, voice lowered.

Betty scoffs. She’s done fine the past sixteen years of her life not letting anything out. “I don’t believe that.”

Jughead says, “You don’t have to. But either way, if you wanna talk, you can. This is all off the record… starting now.”

It takes a moment for that to sink in, and then she’s leaning over the desk to slap his arm. “Jughead! That’s not funny!” They both laugh, and Betty can’t help but think he has a nice one. It’s a little wheezy, not very loud, but the genuine pleasure is obvious.

“Sorry, sorry. I wouldn’t leak that Southsiders actually have emotions,” he jokes, rolling his eyes.

It rubs her the wrong way, but she understands at the same time -- she used to think there was nothing to Northsiders except ego. Clearly, that’s not the case. “You better not,” she says in her most threatening tone of voice, laughing as he flinches.

He grumbles about it for a moment, and Betty spends that moment basking in the change of mood. But then he says, “I’m serious about you being able to talk to me, if you want. About soulmates or… anything.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says, looking away from him. “If I needed to talk about things, it would all be stuff you wouldn’t like.”

“I’m a big boy, I can handle a little gang trouble.”  It’s a joke, but she gets the impression he’s deadly serious.

They stare at each other again. That same intensity comes back, or maybe it never left, but it sends shivers down her spine either way.

“Can you?” She asks, her voice low. It feels like a taunt.

Jughead’s face does something weird. He smiles, head tilting down until his eyes are hooded, but then something happens. The only way she can describe it is that his face  _ pinches _ , and he pales, just a little. Just enough to be noticeable. He doesn’t respond with words, just a nod.

She breathes in deeply, her chest feeling hollow.  _ But why? _ She wonders, a tad panicked.  _ Why do I feel so disappointed? _

Betty blurts, “My friend killed herself.”

That makes him sit all the way back. He doesn’t withdraw his hand; no, he flips it over under hers so their fingers are interlocked. “I’m -- I’m sorry.”

Staring at their hands, she says, “Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“She joined the Serpents, and then she started dealing and doing harder drugs with the Ghoulies.”

“The Ghoulies?”

Betty looks up, eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t know about the Ghoulies?”

“No?”

“Well, they’re another gang, mostly in Centerville. Some of their younger members went to Southside High. There’s a lot more history there but…. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. They deal hard drugs, the Serpents don’t.  A nd she,” Betty takes another deep breath, all of the pain rushing back to her, “she fell in love with one of them. I think he was her soulmate. She never told me for sure. They weren’t supposed to be together, and it’s not like they could just leave their gang and join the other one. When it came time to fight the Ghoulies off our turf, she couldn’t handle it, and she killed herself.”

His thumb gently rubs circles onto the back of her hand, caressing the skin in a way she suddenly doesn’t want to lose, ever. A little hysterically, she thinks,  _ this isn’t helping my crush on you. _

“We all say it was ‘cause of the stress. Every new recruit, we say,  _ don’t be like Jupiter, she couldn’t handle it _ . Scare them into toughening up.” She swallows. “I was one of the first new recruits after she did it.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I know that barely means anything now, but I am.”

Instead of responding to that, she says, “The Ghoulie? He went crazy. OD’d on coke a few days after she did it. My mom has an in with the coroner in Centerville, where he died, and she saw his words, but it was inconclusive. I think they were ‘mates, though. I’ve never heard of someone falling so far off the deep end after their partner died.”

Jughead is quiet for a moment, squeezing her hand loosely. Then -- “My parents weren’t soulmates. Mom is blank, Dad was born with his but they’ve always been dull. They thought, you know, they could make it. Screw fate.  _ We’ll make our own destiny _ ,” he says, obviously quoting something.

“Did it work?” She asks, just above a whisper.

“For a few years, yeah. They had me, and then we moved to the Northside.”

“From where?”

“Sunnyside,” he says, giving her a sardonic smile. She gasps, not dramatically loud, but still. “Grandpa died and it was in his will to give the house to my dad. So we moved in, and my parents were both working, and it was good. My sister was born, and then suddenly it wasn’t good anymore. My parents weren’t happy, either. They would fight every night, and then my mom would leave and my dad would drink. Eventually, my mom took my sister and left, and then my dad started drinking a lot more.”

He clears his throat, suddenly, and Betty’s thrown  back  into reality. Their little bubble isn’t what she’d call nice or cozy, but it is sort of freeing.

“Which is why I brought that up,” he continues, awkwardly. “You said you’d never seen someone get so bad after a partner died. Well, my mom is still alive, but my dad has been off the deep end for years now.”

“Wow,” she says after a brief pause. A million different things to say come to mind but none of them seem right. Eventually, she decides on, “That sucks.”

He lets out a short laugh and pulls his hand away. She snatches her own back, stretching out her fingers and feeling bereft.  _ Good god _ , she thinks,  _ I’m going soft _ . 

“Yeah, it does.”

They’re quiet again. Betty’s mind is racing, thinking of what she could say to keep the conversation going before she has to leave, what she could say to make him feel better, to make herself feel better. 

Eventually, she asks, quiet and unsure of how he’ll react, “Is that all there is to your soulmate situation?”

He blinks at her, twice, a third time, and because of that, she notices his eyelashes of all things. They’re unbelievably pretty for a guy.

“No,” he says, tapping his fingers again.

“No?” She repeats. “Have you met them?”

_ Please say no, _ she thinks,  _ please say no. _

“Yes.”

_ Fuck! _ It’s not like she wants him to have had his heart broken, but… well, he’s cute, and he’s nice, and her parents don’t like him. And he’s staring at her like he’s terrified of her, which is attractive in some weird way. “What happened?” 

His eyes take in every inch of her face, cataloging, before he says, simply but unhappily, “I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and sorry again for the wait!!
> 
> I'm super unsure of the next chapter (which has some smut in it BUT IT'S IMPORTANT FOR THE PLOT hhhhhhhh) plus it's all I have left before I have no more backup so. Idk when it'll come out. Again I'm super sorry jsdlkfjkdsajsk
> 
> Anyway lemme know what you thought? <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead and Betty deal with a new, soulmate-related development.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said I'm unsure of this chapter?? It's because there is smut in it and honestly I would've just not even posted this but there's plot related content in it so dfkldsjflkjadljflkadjlf fuck
> 
> I also still don't have the next chapter finished but I got a lovely comment yesterday and I decided I'd left this waiting too long. Everyone who commented on the last chapter, thank you for the kind words <3
> 
> Warning for more talk about the rape that happened but it's not graphic. 
> 
> Also....Jughead is on the ace spec yall.
> 
> Betad by [my lovely wife Mari](https://writeraquamarinara.tumblr.com/)

_Riverdale High gained many new students in what is being called the Southside Integration by both the media and the school’s administration. Those new students amass_

Wait. Amass isn’t the right word.

_Those new students_ ~~_accumulate_ ~~ _consist of almost 200 in total, and every single one of them came from Southside High._

Jughead groans, dragging a hand through his hair. The words aren’t coming to him, and he knows it’s because he’s trying to start from the fricking beginning, which he’s always terrible at. But surely, everyone knows by now that the new students are from Southside High, and that there are about 200 of them, and that it’s called the Southside Integration. Surely.

He erases everything he’s written and starts over.

_On Tuesday, September 11th, Southside High shut its doors, following the discovery of a meth lab in the basement. It was put under quarantine immediately, and is now just a standing memorial to the_ ~~_misery that is_ ~~ _long history of Southside education. Records on how many students attended are outdated at best, but as was reported by The Register on Friday, September 14th, roughly 200 of its students transferred to Riverdale High starting Monday, September 17th. The interim week between SH shutting down and the students coming to RH was a time in which Riverdale High and her administration prepared for the incoming students. Everything, though mainly class schedules, was dealt with in this time. One thing they did not account for, however, was the bus routes. The only options would be to alter them to go to the Southside, or add at least three more with the express purpose of taking students home to the Southside. Neither of these happened, or have even been addressed, leaving many of the new students to walk home. It is a 45 minute walk for even the fastest of track runners. Following the November 2016 attack and subsequent rape of Sabrina Spellman on Cedar Street, which happened at dusk (the time many Southside students will be arriving home), Mayor McCoy and Principal Weatherbee promised to team up to keep students safe. Yet this glaring lack of consideration has not been addressed, and any attempts to bring it up with them turn into cold warnings to leave their offices. It is undeniable that the Southsiders are in danger of_

Jughead’s cock twitches.

He pushes his laptop back slightly on his lap to stare at the crotch of his pajama pants, which he feels suddenly tighten. It doesn’t happen quickly, per se, but there’s a definite divide there -- one minute he’s finally, _finally_ getting into the bus piece, and the next all he can think about is touching himself until he cries.

Which is not something he feels often. In fact, he’s probably never felt that way before, and feeling it now is…. Hmm. _Interesting_. Yeah, that.

Jughead is used to ignoring erections, which don’t come that often anyway. When he tries to this time, he only succeeds in adding, _…_ _similar attacks, particularly the female students._ , before it becomes clear that he _cannot_ ignore it. The wet spot he can feel but not see on his boxers is what changes his mind, or rather makes it.

With a low groan, he sets his laptop on the bed and thinks at his lap, _Why now? What are you doing?_

Oh god, he needs to have a plan before he does anything. His dad is home tonight, sitting in front of the TV and “nursing one or two beers and no more” according to what he said when Jughead got home. The house is old, and the walls are thin, and Jughead is positive that if he sat here and did his business, FP would hear. The living room is right under his bedroom, after all. Which means his options are to do it here and be as silent as possible, or go make use of the shower.

He chooses the latter.

**_Jughead:_ ** _Hey gonna take a quick shower don’t run the water_

**_Dad (RIP):_ ** _I won’t_

**_Dad (RIP):_ ** _Clean behind your ears_

Jughead doesn’t respond to that, his stomach twisting with anger and something else unidentifiable at FP’s attempt to parent him.

When he gets up from the bed, he finds that his pj bottoms are tented obviously, and sort of dies of embarrassment. There’s no one to see it but him, and he knows it’s completely normal, but…. Ugh. Another perk of being a teenager -- dumb, useless, unexplainable emotions.

The hallway isn’t that long, and FP is definitely downstairs, but Jughead isn’t willing to risk being caught like this. As quickly as he can, he reaches in and moves his erection up, the tip held to his hip by the band of his boxers. It makes him hiss, and throb, and also feel sorta dumb, too.

His walk to the bathroom is measured, as even as he can possibly make it. A speed walk would tip FP off. He can’t make himself go any slower.

Soon enough, the shower is turned on, and he’s under the hot water, his hand on his dick.

If he’s being honest, masturbating has bored him ever since Archie told him about it when they were twelve. He’d tried it out, expecting to feel the same way Archie did, and when he didn’t, he’d felt immeasurably weird. He didn’t orgasm until he was almost fifteen, and even with knowing what that felt like, those two to five seconds of endorphins and relaxation, little interest has been drummed up. It’s a process, a necessary evil, something he does every once in a while when something clicks in his brain and tells him he should.

Well, that thing in his brain has clicked and it has clicked majorly.

Jughead moves his hand up and down slowly, skin tugging and small jolts of pleasure tingling in him.

Somewhere, an echo of those coveted two to five seconds makes him twitch in his palm. And suddenly it makes sense -- soulmates feel each other’s arousal after prolonged skin contact or kissing. But he and Betty haven’t kissed, or even touched that much so why -- ?

“Oh god,” he groans, heat sparking low in his belly. He moves his hand again, twisting at the head like he knows every guy in every porno likes, and Jesus Christ, it feels amazing.

Swallowing roughly, he leans back against the wall, hot water helping to warm him inside and out.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters, rubbing at the vein on the backside of his dick. He wants to wait for Betty to make the next move, make him feel good again, and then, _then_ he’ll stroke himself again.

She does something, and Jughead shivers at it, giving in completely. There’s no point in waiting, or if there is, he suddenly can’t see it.

He jerks off, quick and tight, for long minutes full of echoes from Betty. She’s all he thinks about -- well her and all the things they could do together. Never has he wanted legs wrapped around his waist, never has he wanted to feel tight heat around his dick, and never has he thought of someone as he did this.

When he comes, he bites off a moan and thinks, _Betty Betty Betty_ . And then -- _How am I supposed to face her after this?_

* * *

The door shuts behind Betty’s parents, and along with the click of the lock comes the feeling of freedom. They’re going to some barely-Northside restaurant and won’t be back for at least two hours, two hours that Betty has the trailer to herself. Polly is out again, apparently with Jason Blossom if the gossip mill is to be believed, and while she hasn’t said when she’ll be home, it’s Friday and that means her curfew is eleven. Which is not for another two and a half hours.

Is it obvious Betty doesn’t get a lot of alone time?

All she’s been able to think about today is Jughead’s hands, which caught her attention during free period and have stayed at the forefront of her mind ever since. He’d been juggling pieces of candy, and somehow her eyes had landed on his fingers. They’re long and thin, not knobbly, with the only blemishes being a few small cuts and that spot everyone has on their ring finger where pencils have worn down the skin.

The hopeless romantic in her says they’re writers’ hands. The horny part of her says they’d feel great touching her. Neither are wrong.

Betty, leaning against the door, sighs and squeezes her thighs together. It barely works to relieve the ache she’s been feeling all day long, but it helps enough that she can make sure the door is locked, and head to the bathroom without sticking her hand down her pants. The windows are open, and people are walking around. Someone would see, and Alice would probably have a conniption.

She turns the water on in the bath, waiting for it to heat up before plugging it up. It takes a little while to fill completely, longer than she’d like, but the warmth is worth the wait once she sinks into it.

For a few minutes, she closes her eyes and lets the water soak into her, wash away all the bad feelings and thoughts that have plagued her all week. The Bulldogs are still causing problems, harassing her and many other Southside girls, picking and then blaming fights on the boys. In her cooking class, she’d managed to get burned so badly that it aches days later. She’s behind in her math class, and got publicly called out for it. Her friends aren’t in the same classes as her, meaning she only gets to see them during free period and lunch. Kevin keeps acting weird around her, glancing at her and then away, biting his lip and jiggling his leg. The cherry on top is Jughead, who hasn’t been acting any differently except that he purposefully avoided her a few times this week. When she did manage to get him to stay, things were normal, but other than that? He even avoided her eyes in the hall, ducking his head. Sweet Pea had witnessed many of these instances and told her, “He’s just a weirdo, Betty, don’t worry so much about it.”

She has no idea what’s going on with him.

Today, though, he’d been fine, hanging out in the lounge. It’s where she saw his hands, and _oh yeah_ , she thinks, _that’s what I’m doing in here._

Her fingers drag down her body under the water, dipping into the crease between her legs and sliding between her folds. She’s wet in a way that isn’t because of the water, a sigh escaping her as she rubs gently at her clit.

In her mind, she pictures Jughead being here with her in the tub. There’s barely enough room for herself, let alone another person, but in this fantasy, the tub is much bigger. He sits behind her and it’s his hand touching her, his voice in her ear, and she presses up against him rather than the plastic of the bath.

Betty can’t help but moan as she imagines that it’s his fingers moving down, pressing into her. She’s too used to her own, even considering how rarely she does this, and his would be like seeing god. Probably. No, definitely. He’d be great at it, and if not, well, she can teach him.

Jesus, that would be fun.

For long minutes, she employs every trick in her book. Someday, she promises herself, she’ll lay down and give herself time, but for now, she just wants to _come_. For long minutes, those tricks make her feel good but not good enough, and she never even gets close to the edge.

Eventually, she gets fed up, tears in her eyes. All she wants is to relax, to give herself something good after such a shitty week, and she _finally_ has time alone, but it’s not working. The urge to slap her hand against the water in anger is strong, but she knows she’d be the one who’d have to clean it up.

Why isn’t it working? What’s wrong with her?

_Why can’t anything go right?_

She presses her palms to her eyes, willing herself to calm down. There’s still time. If needs be, she can go and do this on the couch bed. All she’d have to do is close the curtains, which is easy enough. _Calm down, Betty. Calm down._

It takes a few moments, but she gets there eventually.

And then, one of the weirdest and possibly best things to ever happen to her -- well, happens.

It starts with a tingle in her spine, like shivers or something but better. Then it spreads down into her core, and up into her chest, and Betty gasps as she places the feeling -- pleasure.

Not questioning where the wonderful second surge has come from, Betty reaches down again, hissing softly when she touches sensitive flesh. She gets used to it easily, though, and finds herself getting right back into it.

_Jughead_ , she thinks again. What she’s read of his writing is amazing, and it makes her imagine him whispering in her ear, dirty talk and sweet nothings and romantic phrases, maybe. She’s never allowed herself to want anyone to be romantic and sappy with her, but if it was Jughead? There’s no universe in which she’d say no to that. Or him. Or his body on hers, _in_ hers.

Her back arches, head digging uncomfortably into the plastic as tension builds within her. There will be no dilly dallying this time -- no, this time, she’s going to come. She’s approaching the edge fast and furious, and there’s nothing that can stop her.

\-- fingers tugging at dark hair -- a low moan -- sticky skin and kisses ruined by panting breath -- a steady rhythm -- “ _Betty…_.”

Betty gasps as she finally, _finally_ drops over the edge, toes curling with the power of it.

“Jesus Christ,” she pants, staring at the ceiling of the bathroom. Her breath is caught in her throat and her legs are starting to ache from the position they’ve been held in for too long, but she doesn’t care. Everything else feels too good to even think about those things.

Sinking into the water more, Betty closes her eyes. They pop open a second later when she realizes, _How am I gonna be able to look Jughead in the eye on Monday?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be gentle lmao I don't write smut very often djskfjasldkjflkasdlfaj
> 
> Sorry the chapter's short lol


End file.
